


The Summer of 1988

by irishnaturaldisaster



Category: IT (2017)
Genre: Blood and Gore, Gen, Homophobic Language, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Minor Character Death, Richie's Dad isn't that nice
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-16
Updated: 2019-01-13
Packaged: 2019-07-12 05:57:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 30
Words: 37,830
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15989072
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/irishnaturaldisaster/pseuds/irishnaturaldisaster
Summary: "A week had passed since the incident and the Loser’s Club were distraught. They spent days hanging up posters, Bill’s parent’s paying for Georgie’s and the small group giving all their pocket money to make ones up for Richie because clearly his parents didn’t care. They hadn’t even noticed he was gone in the first place."---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------Basically a retelling of the IT movie/book but Richie and Georgie are taken by IT.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first fanfiction I've ever posted so any constructive criticism is always welcome! I hope you enjoy this cause I sure as hell loved writing it!!

Bill Denbrough smiled gently at his younger brother, Georgie, as he ran around the park, imitating a plane, sound effects and all. He chuckled as Georgie pretended to shoot at his adversary, an extremely pumped up Richie Tozier, and started charging towards him with a terrifying holler. Richie roared back and the two playfully rolled around in the grass, Richie obviously letting Georgie win. He had a huge soft spot for the kid. “It’s hard to tell which of them is supposed to be six years old” Stan Uris muttered sarcastically to himself, looking up from his book to comment on Richie’s childish behaviour. “At least he’s not over here talking shit about my mom” Eddie grumbled, eye’s not leaving the black-haired boy for a second. “Come on g-g-guys, don’t shit on R-R-Richie when he’s not here” Bill said, leaning further back on the green park bench and picking at the peeling paint absentmindedly. He watched as Richie sat down next to Georgie, the two sucked into a deep conversation, which consisted with a handful of giggles and sarcastically sympathetic pats on the back. “What do you th-th-think they’re talking about?” Bill questioned, getting the rest of the groups attention. “Probably something gross, Richie could say anything to Georgie and he’d laugh his ass off” Mike chuckled looking up from his spot on the grass. “Nothing lewd I hope…” Stan said, eyeing Richie with questioning stare. “Relax guys, Richie’s not a complete idiot, he wouldn’t say anything to Georgie that would make Bill mad if he heard him say it” Beverly chided, her head in Ben’s lap and his hands in her hair. “Yeah guys, Richie’s smarter than you give him credit for!” Ben added brightly, earning a nod from the others. “Plus, not even Trashmouth Tozier could take an angry Bill in a fight” Stan chuckled, causing a choir of giggles to envelope the group. 

They’d been at the park almost all day, reading or simply relaxing with Richie messing around with Georgie the entire time, much to the confusion of everybody else. They tried to call him over a few times, but he simply ignored them, or pretended he couldn’t hear them. It was like he was mad at them. “I swear we did something to upset him” Eddie said nervously, looking between his friends and Richie, who now was pushing Georgie on some nearby swings with a small smile plastered on his freckled face. “I can’t think of anything? Maybe he’s just having an off day?” Stan questioned, slightly anxious that Richie wasn’t his usual rude and boisterous self. “You guys probably said something to tick him off and now he’s mega pissed” Beverly teased but even she was worried. Richie sometimes ignored the others, claiming that it was all too much for him sometimes, but he always would talk to her. It was extremely unsettling. “Maybe he told Georgie something?” Mike asked, looking up at Bill for some sort of answer but he remained silent, biting at the bottom of his chapped lips. 

“Bye Richie!!” Georgie cheered, hugging the older boy, who returned it instantly. “I’ll see you around!” Richie called as he hopped on his bike and peddled off into the fading light. Georgie came bounding up to Bill and tugged his shirt. “Are we going home now?” He asked innocently, as if he hadn’t been playing with Richie all by himself for the past few hours. “Is Richie okay?” Eddie asked, turning to face him. “Yeah what’s wrong with trashmouth? It’s not like him to not be over here forcing all his crude humor on us?” Stan questioned closing his book. Georgie looked anxiously around the group and chewed his lip, a nervous trait he had taken from his older brother. “You can t-t-tell us Juh-Juh-Georgie, it’s o-o-okay.” Bill pushed gently, everyone knowing that his stutter only grew worse when he was nervous or scared. “Well” Georgie began “Richie was saying that sometimes home sucks major butts and that its suddenly got a lot worse. He’s really sad right now”. Everyone went quiet, how long had Richie been feeling this way. “I need to go find him” Eddie said hurriedly and sat up, striding towards where they had thrown their bikes. It wasn’t long before the rest of the Loser’s club were up with him, Georgie clinging to Bill’s stomach as they rode down hills and swerved around corners. 

They found him smoking outside the old, crooked house on Neibolt Street, an odd and frankly creepy setting for the argument about to transpire but at least they’d have no witnesses. “Richie, for fuck sake do you know how long we were looking for you?!” Eddie yelled, throwing his bike to the ground and stomping over the solemn boy. “Who cares” Richie chuckled, puffing out an impressively large cloud of smoke. Eddie groaned and grabbed the cancer stick and threw it to the ground, stomping on it. “Disgusting Habit.” He grumbled. “Funny how you never say that to Bev huh? Never say anything about her being disgusting.” Richie snarled, making Eddie take a step back. “Richie come on, you know he didn’t mean anything by it!” Beverley pleaded walking over to him, offering her hand out to gently hold his shoulder. “Don’t fucking touch me!” Richie screamed, standing up and backing away. “What the fuck is with you?!” Stan approached, fist clenched. Richie flinched back and crossed his arms in front of him, trying his best to look as intimidating as he physically could. Angry tears had pooled in the corners of his eyes and his friends shared a confused look. Richie never got like this, he hardly ever cried, and he was rarely mad enough at them to scream his head off at them.

“What’s with me? Since when have you guys cared about me and my personal issues!” Richie scoffed, tears trickling down the edge of his eyes. “What the hell are you talking about man? We’ve always cared.” Mike questioned, walking closer, using a gentler tone and body language. “I heard you talking about me earlier, you think I’m just some trashmouthed cowardly fuck. I bet you wouldn’t care if I disappeared like all those other kids?!” He cried, clenching his fists. “Richie for Christ sake we care about you okay! All th-th-those things y-y-you said are not true and you know it. Now why d-d-don’t you tell us w-what’s really going on?” Bill questioned, moving from the center of the circle to sit on the concrete curb. He patted the seat next to him and Georgie bounded forward taking his place beside his brother, followed swiftly by the other losers who sat with him all looking expectantly at Richie. Richie swallowed the lump in his throat and scowled, kicking a stone halfheartedly, eyes following it as it tumbled down into a nearby sewer grate. “Go on Richie” Eddie said gently, urging the other boy into talking. Richie bit his chapped lips anxiously, sighed and smiled weakly at them. “My Dad’s home”.


	2. Chapter 2

“Oh, Jesus fuck!” Stan was the first one to react as he rose to his feet and inspected the other boy. “Did he hurt you? Are you okay? I swear to fuck if he’s hurt you-” He questioned angrily, poking and prodding Richie until he lightly slapped his hand away. “Relax, I’m okay just some bruised emotions, nothing Trashmouth Tozier can’t handle.” He chuckled, though everyone could tell it was faked, the smile didn’t reach his eyes like it usually did and his posture was incredibly stiff and standoffish, he wasn’t okay. “What did he say to you?” Eddie asked, tone thin and stone cold. Everyone held their breath as he sighed. “He called me a faggot, said he wished I were dead” Richie said, kicking at the ground lightly. “Motherfucker!” Beverly yelled, Ben glowered beside her. “That son of a bitch doesn’t even know how lucky he is to have you! Who the fuck does he think he is?!” Bill growled, Georgie looking up at him in astonishment. Not only had is older brother just swore for the first time in front of him, but he also said a whole sentence without stuttering once. “It’s fine I’m used to it” Richie chuckled, pushing his coke bottle glasses up his face trying to push the attention away from himself much to the dismay of the others. “Richie Jesus Christ just let us help you” Eddie pleaded and reached out, grabbing his shoulder. Richie flinched violently, and everyone froze. “Pull down his collar” Bill said, and his shirt was pulled down. A large bruise colored the usually pale area in a myriad of blacks, purples and yellows.

“Jesus Richie” Mike cried, approaching gently and lightly touching the affected area. “Who did that to you? A bully?” Georgie asked, clueless to the scene surrounding him. “Yeah, Georgie, a big, bad bully did this to me” Richie lied gently and smiled lightly as Georgie smashed his fist into his palm. “I’ll make sure he won’t hurt you again” He whispered darkly, and Richie just chuckled sadly. “You can’t Georgie and don’t ask why, you just can’t. I’ll explain when your older”. The others looked at one another for a moment before nodding gravely, each knowing what was to be done. “Richie until you’re Dad fucks off back to whatever hole he crawled out from you can stay in our houses” Stan deducted. “All our parents love you and for those who don’t you can sneak in”. Richie sighed with relief but instantly tried to hide it. “Are you sure guys? I don’t want to be a bother” he asked feeble, the others cringed slightly, not used to him being so quiet and soft-spoken. “Yes, we defiantly mean it, you are not staying in that house another minute, you can stay at mine tonight if you want?” Eddie asked running his hand on Richie’s arm. Richie nodded, tears welling up before finally rolling freely down his cheeks. “Oh Richie” Beverly cooed and rushed over to him, encasing him in a tight hug. It wasn’t long before everyone else decided to join in, even Georgie who squeezed in through the group of friends, so he could cling to his leg. Richie was always his favourite, well after Bill of course. “Thanks guys, you don’t know how much this means to me” Richie chocked out, hiding his face in Eddie’s shoulder. “It’s okay Richie, we’ll always be here to help” Ben soothed. They stayed like that for moment, quietly comforting the sobbing boy as his cries echoed around the empty street.

As they prepared to bike on home, Georgie felt as if something was looking at them. He stopped walking with his brother and turned around to face the dark, decrepit house a few steps away and standing on the front porch, smiling wildly at him was a clown. Its hair was a bright, untamed mess of orange, like a crackling fireplace that had long since grown wild and unpredictable, and the long red lines on its face carved up towards his yellow, glinting cat like eyes and sent only one word to Georgie’s mind, danger. It’s frilled costume, tattered with dirt, age and faint reddish stains, cloaked it in an air of fear that Georgie felt seep into him like he had been plunged into ice cold water and his mind was yelling at him to run. He rubbed his eye’s in disbelief and when he opened them again the clown was still there, closer this time and holding a small red balloon. It’s smiled grew even more ghastly, carving up its face as it watched Georgie take a step back in fear. “Hiya Georgie” He sung cheerily, and raised its hand in offering. “Want a balloon?”.

Bill looked behind, only to see his brother was not by his side anymore. “Guy’s w-who has Georgie?” He asked turning to look at them, the tips of anxiety bristling against him. “He was right behind you.” A sniffling Richie explained, turning to look around the small group but Georgie was nowhere in sight. Then they heard it, it was faint but they still heard it, it had come from the street they had just been on. A high-pitched scream. “Georgie!” Bill yelled charging back towards the house and towards the ball of cries that was his younger brother. “Juh-Juh-Georgie, oh my g-g-god are you alright?! What h-h-happened?” Bill cried holding his brother close to his chest. “I saw it Billy! It was so close it almost touched me!!” He howled, eyeing the house in pure fear, burrowing himself in the warm, safe arms of his older brother. “Saw what Georgie? What did you see?” Beverly asked, kneeling to be on the same level as the small child. “A clown! I saw a big, scary clown! I swear it was real, it almost got me! It was holding a red balloon! It tried to eat me” He cried again hiding his head into Bill’s shoulder. The other losers shared looks of pure confusion until they too fell into a shocked silence. There a few feet away from them was a red balloon.


	3. Chapter 3

The group of them cycled home in an echoing silence. Was what they saw a prank or was it real? Would they ever know? Whatever it was it had spooked poor Georgie to silence and he clung to Bill with all his might, almost like he would disappear if he let go. The first stop was Eddie’s, him and Richie getting off their bikes and discussing their plans with the rattled losers. “I’m gonna sneak Rich in alright? If the plan fails, I’ll call one of you using the excuse that I forgot what we had for homework in one our classes. Listen for those words that’s the phrase.” Everyone nodded, noting the sentence in the back of their minds. They all said their goodbye’s and hugged Richie one last time for good measure before heading off into the setting sun. Richie watched them all ride away, nervously chewing on his lip before turning to his friend. Eddie smiled lightly at the other boy and nodded up to his window. “You know the drill.” He smiled, walking towards the front door. “Sure, do Eds” Richie smirked back, turning to climb up the house’s drainpipe. Eddie rolled his eyes at the endearing nickname, he’d never say tell Richie that he liked it. Richie would go fucking insane with pride, he’d probably tattoo ‘I fucking knew Ed’s liked his nickname’ on his forehead. 

“Hi Mommy” Eddie greeted cheerfully as he walked past the door to their living room. He prayed that she wouldn’t stop him as he passed, he needed to get up and open the window for Richie. His prayers went unanswered. “Sweetie come here for a moment” His mother called back. Eddie hid a sigh and walked into the room. Sonia Kaspbrak was a woman that many feared, including Eddie. She was the kind of women you didn’t want to see the dark side off. Eddie watched impatiently as his mother painted her nails lazily, inspecting them against the light for a moment before finally putting the bottle of nail polish away. “Where were you all day? I hope you remembered to take your medication” Sonia tittered, looking up at her son through hooded eyes. Eddie stopped the eye roll before it could happen, he knew he wasn’t sick, he found out with Richie a few months ago. They had gone to get his routine refill of medication when he was told by Greta Bowie that they were all fake, placebos. The only illness he did have was Asthma. His mother was lying to him. He was obviously seething with rage and proceeded to vent his anger to Richie, who sat patiently listening to all he had to say. Come to think of it, Eddie can’t even remember if he’d even responded to all those vindictive comments against his mother. It’s odd to think of a time where the other boy hadn’t been talking. “Eddie are you listening to me?” Sonia interrupted his train of thought and gave him a disapproving glare when he looked confused. “I said you’re not to be hanging around so late anymore. Kids are disappearing faster than they can find them, too many dangers for kids nowadays. All those quarries and damns. Promise me you won’t go near them baby?” Sonia pleaded holding his hand in a vice like grip. “I promise Mom” He said, itching to go to his room where an impatient Richie was no doubt waiting. Once he was free he wished her a good night a flew up the stairs, ignoring his mother’s pleas for him to watch his step.

“Geez had I known that you were going to have a night long conversation with your mother I would’ve set up camp!” Richie complained as he slid in through the window. “Richie shut up she might hear you” Eddie whispered closing the window and turning to face the loud-mouthed boy who held a smirk on his lips. Eddie knew what that smirk meant. “That’s not she was saying last night Eds” he teased suggestively, wiggling his eyebrows up and down. “Beep Beep Richie!” Eddie whisper yelled, pointing an angry finger at the other boy. “Okay but you’re only saying that ‘cause you know she loves me Eds, it’s hard to fake the emotions and passion we share” Richie winked, causing Eddie to groan and bury his face in his hands. Richie always joked around with him like this, Ben says it because he likes him, but Eddie thinks otherwise. He thinks he does it because he knows it drives him crazy. “Seriously though, can I get something to eat? I’m starved.” Richie joked, reaching into Eddie’s drawers for his Pajamas, he left them here in case of emergencies. “Richie, what the fuck?! When’s the last time you ate something?” Eddie questioned, walking towards his bedroom door. “Yesterday morning” Richie mumbled, throwing his top off to replace it with his cotton PJ one. Eddie grumbled something about Richie not thinking about his health and wandered down stairs, as stealthily as possible and grabbed the first edible thing he could find. 

“Cereal? Really?” Richie laughed, trying to rile up the younger boy. “Yes really, do want me to take it back?” Eddie threatened sweetly and went to nab them from the paler boy’s hands. He instantly pulled the box closer to his chest and shook his head rapidly. Eddie smiled at him, then picked up his PJs. “Be right back” He whispered, before heading off into his bathroom. Richie smiled fondly after the boy, then sat up, looking around the room. He always did this whenever Eddie left him alone. He knew it bothered the other boy when he touched all his stuff, but he couldn’t help himself. His room paled in comparison to Eddie’s room. He smiled lightly as he looked at the pictures hanging on his wall. Most of them were with the other losers, others with the group and Georgie and then there was a few of just him and Eddie. Most of them taken on days that were so long forgotten that Richie struggled to recall if they even happened in the first place. “Bed?” Eddie asked tiredly, emerging from the bathroom in pale yellow PJs. “Damn Eds, gotta ask a guy to dinner before you say something like that! I always do that with your mom!” Richie chided cheerily, earning a light smack on his arm. “Come on, we have to be up early so mom doesn’t see you” Eddie explained before hopping into bed, Richie following him. They lay in silence for a while till Richie asked a question that was dancing around both their minds. “Do you think that clown was real?” He broached. The two’s long, suffocating silence continued before Eddie sighed. “I hope not. I mean it think it’s not real. Maybe Georgie just imagined it, he was on his own, it was getting dark and he was tired. Anyone would be freaked out by a red balloon wafting by” Eddie deducted, happy with his conclusion. He turned over in bed and let out a quiet “Night Rich” which was answered by an even quieter “Night Eds”. The two fell asleep, with the alluring thought that all scary clowns were fake, nothing creepy was floating around Derry and that there was no way Georgie Denbrough saw what he thought he saw.


	4. Chapter 4

Richie snapped his eyes open and sat up with a start, he’d fallen asleep, he can’t fall asleep, not with him around. Richie scanned his brain, looking for the memory of him coming home and him locking his bedroom door. He couldn’t find it, he hadn’t locked his door. His eyes darted around, trying to find the man that had grown to become the bane of his existence, his heart rate increasing when he couldn’t recognize his surroundings until it all came flooding back. He was in Eddie’s room, he was safe, his Dad wasn’t here. As if on cue, the smaller boy who lay beside him murmured something quietly in his sleep and shuffled towards him, curling up into his side. Richie smiled fondly at him, gently playing with his soft, brown hair as Eddie hummed happily. Richie sighed, he wished he could do this every time he saw the other boy, but he couldn’t. He had to keep it in, if someone were to find out he liked someone or worse if he liked Eddie, he’d be the resident punching bag for everyone at school and at home as well. Richie winched slightly, rubbing a hand down his face and tugging gently at his hair, a nervous tick he’d started doing whenever he felt scared or anxious, it always seemed to ground him. He looked at Eddie one last time, gently soothing back the hair on his head before sitting up and stretching. He needed a glass of water, perhaps that would settle his nerves. 

Turns out walking down your best friend’s creaky stairs whilst his overprotective mother, who by the way hates you guts, was not the peaceful experience Richie was looking for. Every drawling squeak or yawing groan from the floorboards would send a nervous jolt straight to his heart and he paused every time, hoping to hear the echoing snores from Sonia Kaspbrak’s room instead of thumping footsteps signalling her entrance. When he finally reached the cool, linoleum floor of the kitchen he heaved a sigh of relief he hadn’t realized he was holding and already began to dread his ascent back up. He reaches into the cupboard and gets his glass, his signature glass that he leaves at Eddie’s since his mother has a thing about them sharing glasses. Something about how germs get carried easier that way. Richie couldn’t give a rat’s ass why she did it all that mattered is now he had a signature glass in the Kaspbrak cupboards and he couldn’t be happier. The large green glass was the outcast of all the other ones, the only one that had a shade of color on it. Every other glass was a pristine, crystal clear one, with little stickers signifying their owners on each one. Richie’s one proudly held the sticker of Eddie’s name, an idea from the spaghetti man himself so the glass would never be thrown away. It wasn’t uncommon for Sonia to throw away gifts her son received from Richie ‘by mistake’, she always loathed him, probably because of his reputation. For once Richie despised it, whishing that he was more well mannered like Stan or Bill. Perhaps then he would be allowed come and go from Eddie’s as he pleased instead of climbing through his fucking window. 

He quietly turned on the tap and watched the gushing water gurgling from the tap mouth before he lifted the mouth of his glass the spout. He gazed absentmindedly at the water, admiring how it swirled and danced its way into the glass before finally he turned the tap off and took two large gulps, finishing it almost instantly. Just as he was about to head back upstairs he hear footsteps behind him, and he froze. It was Sonia, it had to be Sonia. Who else could it have been, Eddie would’ve made his presence known by now if it was him. Oh god, she’s going to scream the house down and call the cops or worse, she may even call his Dad. He gulped and turned around, expecting to see the large, scowling figure of Sonia Kaspbrak but instead all he saw was a piece of golden paper floating lifelessly to the ground. He arched his eyebrows, confusion written all over his face as he gently swooped down to pick up the slightly crinkled paper. He turned it over and had to bite his tongue to hide the gasp that was trying to escape, his shaking fingers gently pawing over the image adorning the front. It was a missing poster, more specifically it was HIS missing poster. His smiling face stared back at him, his name was printed in black standoffish text and tomorrows date was displayed in the space below it. He shivered and went to throw the picture away but then it did something that made Richie nearly bit through his tongue. The picture winked at him. Richie crunched the paper up and threw it to the ground his breathing come out in wheezing gasps. This can’t be happening, this couldn’t be happening. He jerked himself around and went to run upstairs and wake Eddie, Eddie would help him, he was always able to help calm him down. When he whirled around he ran face first into his all time greatest fear, a large looming clown.

Richie drew in a breath to scream but the clown only grinned, daintily lifting Its hand to cover his mouth. Richie instantly winced, the feeling of the slightly grimy latex glove on his lips making him want to squirm away from the clown but he couldn’t move. He was frozen to the spot. The clown chuckled lowly, a menacing look painted on Its comical face and whispered harshly “Beep Beep Richie, wouldn’t want to wake dear old Eds now would we?” It teased, and Richie tried to scream again. He felt like he was going to vomit, a cold sweat had already begun to develop down his back and tears of fear were gently pricking his eyes. This had to be fake, he was just having a nightmare, he was still upstairs, he was still asleep, he had to be. This. Was. Not. Real. “Hello Richie, I’m Pennywise the Dancing clown! Pennywise meet Richie, Richie meet Pennywise” The clown, Pennywise, giggled and Richie shivered, squeezing his eyes shut. He couldn’t stand to look at those golden orbs, that twisted red smile or those bright tufts of orange hair. “Don’t worry Richie, you’ll be happy where we’re going, we’re going to the circus four eyes! Going to see all the lions, tigers and bears. You’ll float there Richie, you’ll float! You won’t ever be scared again!” The clown jeered and reached out to grasp the boy’s hair painfully, forcing him to maintain eye contact with it. “We all float down there” IT drawled and suddenly its teeth were growing sharper, turning into tiny jagged daggers, like a shark’s mouth. It’s eyes more became primal, more bloodthirsty, eyeing Richie like he was a slab of meat in the butchers. Richie squeezed his eyes shut and thought of something, anything to make the clown dissipate and leave him the fuck alone.

As if something out there had answered his prayers, a light from upstairs flickered to life and the clown’s eyes left him, looking up angrily at the top of the stairs. Richie’s body sank with relief until he realized with horror, what if it was Eddie. He struggled, trying to free himself from the clown’s grip. He couldn’t let the clown get Eddie, he just couldn’t. Tired, soft footsteps thumped down the stairs and Richie found himself being able to breath freely. The clown was gone, as was the missing poster. It was like it hadn’t even been here in the first place. Eddie walked out into the kitchen, his hair sticking up and looking like a bird’s nest. He yawned and rubbed his eyes lazily, looking at Richie with soft confused eyes. Had Richie not just had the ever-loving shit scared out of him he would’ve felt his heart ache longingly at the image. “Richie what’s wrong? Why are you up so late?” He asked sleepily, and a thousand answers flew to his mind. Of course, Richie went for the one that would hide his fear and ease Eddie’s worry. “Oh, I just needed a glass of water, I was thirsty! Almost as thirsty as your mom is for this dick!” He teased quietly, and Eddie smacked him lightly on the arm. “Beep Beep trashmouth” he sighed, and Richie winced, that wound was a little fresh. “Are you sure you’re okay?” Eddie asked again, eyeing him suspiciously. Richie’s smiled fondly and threw an arm around the smaller boy’s shoulder. “Never better Eds” He smiled and nuzzled his face into his hair. Eddie smiled and gently patted him on the head, smiling harder when he leaned into the touch. The two tiptoed back upstairs, feeling safe in each other’s arms. So safe that they failed to notice the pair of glowing yellow eyes watching them from the kitchen window.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for all your kind and encouraging words!! It really means a lot to me to hear that you're all enjoying the story so much! I hope you like where I'm heading with this fic!


	5. Chapter 5

After a swift morning escape from Sonia Kaspbrak, Richie and Eddie cycled to meet up with the other losers at the quarry, one of their favorite meeting points as of late. The two walked over to the rest of the group, who all sat on the large stones that surrounded the area and were talking in whispers. “Hey guys what’s happening?!” Richie yelled, causing them to jump out of their skins with fright. “Richie! Jesus Christ that was not funny!!” Stan yelled as Richie laughed up a storm, Eddie giggling quietly beside him. “Sorry guys, not my fault that you’re all so jumpy today, what’s the matter?” Richie asked, his laughter dying down a bit as he noticed the solemn faces of his friends. “Did something happen?” Eddie joined in, walking closer to the group. “We were t-t-talking about what Juh-Juh-Georgie saw yesterday” Bill explained darkly, and Richie paled. He instantly schooled his expression and let out a nervous laugh. “Guys come on you can’t seriously be taking what Georgie said as truth?” Richie asked incredulously but he was greeted with silence. “Guys. If there was a clown on the loose we’d have heard about it by now” Eddie joined in, earning a few nods of relief among the group of friends. “But Juh-Juh-Georgie never lies, never!” Bill explained, exasperatedly giving the two boys a look. “I’m not saying he’s lying Bill, only that his eyes were playing tricks on him. We all saw the balloon so maybe that made him think of clowns and then he got scared.” Richie tried, and Bill agreed slowly. It had been decided that the beast that Georgie had seen was merely a trick of the light and there was to be no more talk about it. 

After a refreshing swim on an otherwise lazy day the group of friends decided to head to the one house where they wouldn’t be kicked out for being too rowdy, Bill’s place. His parents were always delighted to see that their son had such good friends, who were not only respectful (well Richie would be forced to remain silent during conversations with Bill’s mother lest they lose their one movie marathon house) but also very intelligent. “What’s on the agenda folks?” Richie spoke, doing a poor imitation of an English Circus Conductor. “Movies?” Bev asked lazily, waving a hand through her short hair. Everyone seemed to agree on this idea and in popped in one their favorite films ‘Return of the Jedi’. During the last fight scene, Georgie had miraculously appeared in Bill’s lap. He loved watching the Ewoks waddle around the screen, he thought they were cute. After a particularly heated cheering during climatic finish, the losers sat around, smiling giddily at each other. “Let’s get some ice cream! There’s a new place down the block beside the library! I went there the other day after studying, it was amazing!” Mike suggested, his eyes gleaming with excitement. The others agreed and gathered up as much spare change as they could muster, with Bill eventually having to beg his mother for money, under the condition that Georgie would join them, but no one minded that. Everyone loved Georgie. 

“Be careful Bill, don’t drop him!!” Eddie yelled as Bill held his little brother on his shoulders and ran down the street, laughing all the way. The other kids smiled at the two and followed close behind, offering words of caution whenever Georgie came to close to falling off. The two brothers had always been close, from a young age everyone knew that Stuttering Bill had a brother and that anyone who messed with said brother would meet a very different side of Bill, one not to be messed with. Once they arrived at the ice cream parlor it dawned on them that they were not the only ones who thought it was the perfect weather for ice creams. The queue almost ran out the door, eliciting a groan of annoyance from everyone and a whine from Georgie. “Hey Eds, Bill buy Georgie and I ice-creams, we’ll wait over here and talk until you come out.” Richie offered, and the others nodded relieved. They all knew that both Richie and Georgie couldn’t wait for anything and having two of them together always resulted in trouble, mostly playful bickering, then play fighting, then something getting broken and it was usually one of the innocent losers who had to pay for Richie and Georgie’s misdeeds.

“Alright Georgie, we have a few minutes before your brother comes back, what do you wanna do?” Richie questioned laughing lightly as he pulled the small boy over his shoulder playfully. “Richie!!! Put me down!” Georgie giggled and squealed with delight kicking his legs to the footfalls of his captor. “We could play war? Chase? Hide and Seek?” Richie questioned, plopping himself down on the curb of the main Derry road. Georgie, still giggling, sat with him and the two fell silent. Richie was about to suggest they hide and jump out on the others when he heard a car horn shatter the amiable environment. He knew that car horn better than he knew his own mothers voice. That was Henry Bower’s gang’s car. “Shit, Georgie, we gotta hide.” Richie muttered scanning his surroundings before spotting a nearby alleyway. He all but dragged the smaller Denbrough boy inside and jumped behind some trashcans, the irony of which would dawn him later when he realized that a trashmouth was sitting huddled beside some trashcans. “Who are we hiding from?” Georgie asked naively, trying to poke his head out from their hidey hole. “Some bad guys, so keep your voice down” Richie hushed, leaning further back against the harsh, brick red walls behind him. “Richie” Georgie whispered quietly, tugging at Richie’s t-shirt hem. Richie didn’t notice, perhaps if he did they would’ve never gotten in this situation in the first place, he was too busy looking out for Bowers. “Richie, it’s important!” Georgie whispered again, tugging harder. “What Georgie?” Richie hissed as nicely as he could. “The clowns here” Georgie said, pointing to the corner of the alleyway. Richie followed his small, shaking finger and felt a pool of unvarying fear. There, in the usually empty and forgotten corner stood a tall, menacing figure. 

The clown grinned devilishly at them and stepped closer. Georgie yelped in fear, burying himself in Richie, who pulled him closer protectively. “Hi again Georgie! You brought a friend!” It sung, and Richie shuddered, that was the not the voice of a sane creature. Then again that was not the voice of anything Richie had ever heard before in his life. It’s eyes scanned them joyously and It took another thumping step forward, It’s footsteps echoing around them in deafening booms. “Don’t look at it Georgie okay? I’ll protect you” Richie promised, looking down at the shaking child. It cackled at this statement and hurled It’s body closer, like a zombie would in a monster film. Richie could see It’s pointed, bloody fangs and twitching pale hands. He’d never been this scared in all his life. “Oh Richie” It spoke to him and Richie blanked, holding Georgie tighter. “It’s okay to be scared, but you won’t be anymore. Not after you float” The clown grinned darkly, now standing over the two boys and looking down gleefully at their fear stricken faces. “We all float down here” It whispered menacingly and just like that they were gone. If anyone had decided to look down the alleyway at this moment of time they’d just assume it was a normal alleyway. There was no sign that Richie or Georgie had ever been there, no sign of them existing in the first place.


	6. Chapter 6

A week had passed since the incident and the Loser’s Club were distraught. They spent days hanging up posters, Bill’s parent’s paying for Georgie’s and the small group giving all their pocket money to make ones up for Richie because clearly his parents didn’t care. They hadn’t even noticed he was gone in the first place. They were currently sat by the river’s edge at their favorite hangout spot, The Barrens. The wind bristled through the trees of the surrounding forest and danced across the children’s skins, causing them all to shiver involuntarily. Nowadays everything seemed a little faded, darker even. Eddie voiced that it was because they didn’t have the groups biggest joker around and everyone found themselves agreeing. Bill was the one worst affected. His stutter had gotten noticeably worse and everyday his train of thought would drift to a symphony of ‘what ifs?’ and ‘It’s my fault, they shouldn’t have been left alone!’. Everyone had tried to tell him otherwise, but he wasn’t having it. Georgie had been his responsibility and in some way, Richie was too. He should have been there to look out for them. 

“I’ll see you guys tomorrow, I’ve got to head back to the farm or Grandpa will have my throat” Mike said dully, waving his hand in a solemn goodbye before hopping on his bike and heading for home. He cycled through the littered streets of Derry and sighed sadly as he flew by the missing posters that were strung around the town like Christmas lights. His gaze caught the eyes of a smiling Richie Tozier and Georgie Denbrough and he found himself tearing his own eyes away. Even their posters brought him a huge degree of pain and pure undulating sadness. “The worst things happen to the best people” Mike muttered to himself, as he cycled up the dirt path to his farm, the fading hours of twilight simmering behind him. He gently laid his bike on the already dew-covered grass beside the large barn and stood, watching the world fall to sleep around him. The light’s in some neighboring houses flickered to life like firefly’s and a chorus of dogs barking echoed around the tired neighborhood. In the past when he did this after hanging out with his friends, he could’ve sworn he’d hear Bill screech ‘Hey ho, Silver Away!’ as he raced home with Stan, or Eddie yelling at Richie to shut the fuck up. He frowned, thinking about Richie nowadays always made him feel sick to his stomach, not the normal kinda of worried sickness but something far worse. Something that told him Richie was in greater danger than he could ever know. 

With that sudden, upsetting thought Mike turned around and started heading towards the farm house. If he squinted, he could almost make out his grandparent’s silhouette against the harsh, kitchen lights. He could see the faint wisps of smoke, pour out of the chimney of his home, meaning dinner was almost ready. Just as he was about to pick up the pace, he heard a thud against the large red, wooden door of the barn. He stopped and cocked his head, usually the animals would be moved to the other barn at night, one closer to the house so they wouldn’t get stolen by some hidden figure of the night. Maybe his Grandfather had forgotten a sheep? He approached slowly, and the banging grew worse, filling the farmyard with a dull pounding noise. It sounded like someone was trapped in there. “Help us Mikey!” A woman’s voice screamed, and Mike’s blood ran cold. His mother, that was his mom’s voice. “Mike! Help your mother she can’t get up!!” His father yelled, the beating on the door turning into harsh, bone crunching slams. Mike’s heart thumped in his chest as two pairs of scorched human hands reached out from under the doors. “Help Mike! Don’t you love us? Don’t you want us to be safe?” his mother moaned, her hands clawing at the barn door, peeling the bright red paint away. Suddenly more arms sprung out from the darkened gaps of the oak doors, scratching desperately at anything they could get their grip on, the scrapping and scrambling noises were almost deafening. They screamed out for him, begging him to set them free, to let them out. Some were missing fingers or hands, others painted the barn in grotesque blood smears. The smell of burning flesh attacked Mike’s senses and caused him to tear up, memories flooding back and ricocheting across his mind like a bullet from a handgun. Mike shivered, a silent scream clinging to his throat, but it wouldn’t come out. He could feel the burning heat and hear the crackling roar of a fire and watched in horror as the amber light in the barn began to glow harsher and livelier as the screams of the tortured souls inside echoed around the yard. His eyes grew wide as saucers as he watched some of them try to reach up for the lock on the barn house door. Then suddenly they all scurried back inside the barn, like rats running from light. It was like something had scared them. Something that should have sent Mike running for his life, but he remained standing in the cusps of darkness, like a forgotten statue in a lavish yard.

Just as Mike began to think he had imagined it all the doors to the barn flew open with a thundering boom and Mike stood frozen, watching what was happening in front of him with disbelieving eyes. There in the moonlit darkness stood a ghoulish figure that rattled the poor boy to his core. A tall, pale, baby faced clown stood there smiling at him, the moon’s beams casting deadly shadows that morphed into long tendrils and swirled intimidatingly towards the young boy. Mike took a step back and the clown’s eye’s locked on to him, scowling menacingly before his face split into one of the creepiest smiles Mike had ever seen. It’s teeth were like toothpicks and it’s eye’s like a hawk as it scoped out it’s pray. It cackled, a sound more suited to a demon than a being whose entire existence relied on the laughter of its audience, and then slowly brought a hand up, waving leisurely at him. It was then when Mike finally found his voice. He let out a throat ripping scream.


	7. Chapter 7

The next day, a spooked Mike explained to Ben what he saw. The two had grown extremely close over the last few years, mostly due to their shared love of history. Ben had been the first of the losers to meet Mike, who had been studying in the library when the two decided to strike up a conversation. They found that they had a lot in common and became fast friends. “Wait seriously!?! You saw the same clown Georgie did?!” Ben yelled, almost falling off his dining room chair. Mike nodded gravely “I wanted to know if you have any information on it, since you still have all the project work from Derry’s town history. I think my Grandpa might be right, this town might be cursed.” he explained, grimly and Ben looked at him in shock before slowly sitting up to lead the other boy to his room. The two had done a project for their history teacher on their town before school had ended but had gotten a less than stellar grade, despite all the work they’d put into it. Ben and Mike said that she was just old, and miss graded them, Richie said the old broad hadn’t been ‘getting any’ lately and had started to take out her anguish on her students. The other Losers hadn’t been happy with this evaluation and it earned Richie a collection of ‘Beep Beep’s that made the school cafeteria sound like an antique car show. 

The two trudged into to Ben’s bedroom and Mike waited as Ben dragged a slightly tattered cardboard box from underneath his bed. He absentmindedly let his eye’s wander around the other boy’s room, smiling lightly at the walls covered with posters he’d given the other boy on his birthday and photos of him and the other losers. He glanced at the hidden poster behind his door, New Kids on the Block, he chuckled quietly but said no more. The fading yellow walls would look garish in anyone else room but never in Ben’s. Maybe it was because he always had a happy disposition. He noticed the closet in the corner overflowing with what was undoubtedly unwashed clothes, not that Mike cared, his room was in a similar state of disrepair. A desk in the corner of the room was covered in antiquities of the past, empty sweet wrappers and postcards, some with illegible scribbles on them and some blank. A few had stamps on the top corner, but had yet to be filled. Ben’s bed was almost like the centerpiece to his room. It was huge, but could never quite match the monster that was Bill’s bed, which could fit all the losers on it comfortably and still have room for more. It was made untidily, half of the sheet had been flung haphazardly on one side of the bed while the other half hung precariously on the edge. The pillows were crooked, and clothes still gathered on it, though Mike couldn’t for the life of him tell if they were dirty or clean. 

Ben dusted the top of the box off before opening it and revealing their, slightly crumbled, yet still near mint condition history project. The big red C, blinked back at them disappointingly from the front page and the two boys grimaced slightly. Ben removed the graded sheet and revealed the project in all its highly presentable glory. Mike smiled down at it and helped Ben lift all the pieces of paper and photocopied photos out and spread them across the wood floor of his bedroom. Once they had finally arranged the project to show the complete timeline of Derry, they looked at each other hesitatingly. The whole floor was decorated in the bright parchment and it was clear that the task ahead of them would not be a quick one. “So, what exactly are we looking for?” Ben asked. “We should probably start looking at all disappearances and see which age group is the most effected. Maybe that way we can find something based on that?” Mike stated and the two set off noting numbers in their notebooks and asking each other questions like ‘Does this count?’ and ‘What if they showed up again?’. For hours, the only sounds that would fill the room was the scratching of pencil lead, the tapping of fingers and the occasional question. In the end, the number presented to them had been paralyzing. 

“All of them were kids, people our age.” Ben noted, his mouth dries with worry. Mike nodded gravely and tapped his fingers nervously against the floorboards. “What’s even stranger is the numbers fluctuate. See look.” Mike pointed to the year 1987, last year. “The numbers here are somewhat normal, they’re only in the fifties and that’s including all ages, but if you look at this year.” Mike’s shaking fingers drifted over to the current year, 1988. The numbers were considerably larger than any other year they documented, except for the year 1961, which had similarly high numbers, but they had disregarded that claiming the information was unimportant. It was after all twenty-seven years old. “Do you think this clown has something to do with it?” Ben asked, looking up at the other boy, the inklings of fear dancing across his vision. Mike nodded and then cleared his throat. Ben knew what that noise meant. Mike was about to become the teacher and him the student. “Think about it Ben, we always bring Georgie out with us in the summer, sometimes till midnight and yet he’s never seen a clown, why was this time any different?” Mike asked turning to face the other boy. “But if you think that’s the case, why didn’t you go missing?” Ben questioned and then two fell into silence. After a few moments, Mike spoke again. “I think it’s because it’s not here to take me, it’s here to make me fear it, to give me a warning. Last night it never made any move to reach me, it stepped forward a bit, but it never left the inside of the barn. If it wanted to get me, it would’ve tried to grab me like it tried to grab Georgie. That’s why he was crying outside the house on Neibolt street. The clown had tried to eat him.” Mike spoke shakily, the memories of the previous night attack his eyes with the vivid images of the clown’s monstrous face. His body quivered in fear. “It’s warning us not to interfere.” Mike said, “It means that Georgie and Richie are still alive, and maybe-maybe IT has them” The two fell into another eerie silence. Ben swallowed the lump in his throat and ignored the pounding of his heart against his ears. Why couldn’t he have had a normal summer vacation? “We need to tell the others” he stated.


	8. Chapter 8

“Okay run this by me again?” Stan asked, scratching the back of his head. The group sat at the Barrens, huddled around Mike and Ben who were explaining everything they’d discovered in rushed conversation, the sun falling steadily behind them. “Come on Stanley?! What’s so hard to grasp?! Clown shows up and a kid goes missing, what’s there to miss?” Beverly groaned, shaking her head. The two began to bicker softly until a throat clearing interrupted them. All eyes turned to Eddie who met the gaze of every loser before speaking gently. “Guy’s if what their saying is true, we have to do something, right? We can’t just let this thing take them!” Eddie said, his voice growing in volume as his breath began to quicken. Richie was alone with a seemingly murderous clown that ate children. He was alone save for Georgie. He moved to the side of the group and fumbled with the zipper of his fanny pack before finally grasping his aspirator and taking four swift pumps of it before sighing, his breathing rate falling to a soothing and somewhat normal pace. “Relax E-E-Eddie, we’ll s-s-save them!” Bill spoke softly, yet with passion and courage that showed all the beginnings of a true leader, and rubbed the boy’s shoulder’s gently. “I think we should head back to the house on Neibolt street, that’s where all this clown business first came about.” Stan deducted, and the others agreed. “So, it’s decided. We meet here in the morning with supplies and make towards the house.” Mike explained, and everyone nodded before heading their separate ways.

Ben walked alone through the desolate neighborhood, his mind on the events of the last few days. His thoughts wandered to all the history his read about this town, how had he not seen the signs, the warnings?! This town was cursed, Mike’s family was right, this town was downright disturbed. There was the whole missing children thing and how the adults in this god forsaken town ignored every single bad thing the Bowers gang did to him, like when that old couple drove past him as he screamed in agony at Kissing Bridge as Henry Bowers carved a H into his stomach. How could he forget the whole Derry Ironworks incident, the graphic images from the scene had scarred Ben so badly that he couldn’t sleep for nearly two weeks. The most haunting of those pictures had been the one of poor boy whose head had been lost in a tree after the explosion. A twig snapping, caught Ben’s attention and he froze, looking down the darkened street where the sound came from. “Ben?” a voice croaked out and Ben moved forward an inch. That voice sounded like Richie’s. “Richie is that you?!” Ben called, his heart pumping his chest, maybe the clown wasn’t real, maybe all of this was fake and maybe they were all playing a huge prank on him, Ben hoped that was the case. He prayed that was the case. “Ben?” The voice echoed, and Ben charged towards it. “Richie!!” Ben cried out, rounded the corner and froze. He swallowed a gasp as he stared at what was in front of him. There, underneath the fluorescent glow of a marooned, buzzing street light was his worst nightmare. The young boy from the picture was stood, his severed head was held in pale, quivering hands, his eyes frozen in a pained, scared look. A nub of white bone poked out from the top of his fleshy neck and maggots infested the open wounds, digging and diving their way through the young boy’s flesh. 

Ben gagged and forced himself to look away, flies had gathered on the open orifices of the boy’s body and danced around his pupils, making it look like his eyes were moving. Except they were moving, they were following him. “Ben?” The young boy’s mouth moved, its voice imitating a pained Richie and Ben paled, it was a trap. Ben turned and started running down the street, his footfalls echoing around the empty neighborhood. He didn’t notice the people who poked their heads out the windows of their homes as his screams bellowed around them or how they had quickly barred them shut, slamming out the dangers and saving themselves. The boy followed him, his footfalls sounding like one of those video games Richie always played in the arcade beside the Aladdin Theater. He looked back at boy and what he saw made him run faster. The boy ran in a stiff and practiced fashion making him look otherworldly as he charged towards Ben, calling after him, mimicking his lost friend’s voices. “Bill! Beverly! Stan! Anyone help!” Ben screamed as he skidded around a corner, tripping slightly over his own two feet.

The boy was gaining on him and the more Ben tripped up the closer he got. Ben’s legs were aching, and every breath was heaved out of him, burning his lungs and causing his eyes to tear up, but he couldn’t stop. Ice cold droplets of sweat rolled down his forehead, causing ripples of shivers to rake through his body as the droplets blurred his vision. The stitch in his side cried out to him and he winced every time the pained sensation pulsed through his side. If he stops he’d be lost like Richie or worse, dead. The boy’s speech had turned from Richie’s voice to Georgie’s and back again as it called him, mocked him and begged him to slow down and stop, claiming it was one of the two boys. Then they turned into something that made Ben scream louder. Snarling, bloodthirsty growls came from the creature storming after him and he could feel a rush of air from behind him, meaning the monster was almost on him and they both knew it. Ben looked behind him apprehensively and was met with a fearsome sight. There was the fabled clown that Mike and Georgie and presumably Richie had seen, and he was just as he pictured. It’s dirty, blood smeared face loomed over him and he smiled euphorically at the fear on the boy’s face. Ben could almost feel the creature’s breath on his cheeks and he could smell a putrid, disgusting odour flowing from its mouth. “Boo” He roared and giggled as Ben screamed in terror. Then Ben saw his gleam of hope, his front door. His paced quickened and he reached for the handle, pushing the door open and slamming it behind him. Ben’s mother, who was having a cup of coffee at the dining table, sat up in alarm and raced towards her now crying son. “Benny? What’s happened? What’s wrong?!” She cried holding the wheezing boy close to her chest as he wailed and wailed. He speech was unintelligible, almost as bad as Bill’s whenever Richie tried to make him say one of those stupid tongue twisters with all the ‘s’ sounds, but one word could be heard clear as day, a word his mother would never know the implications of. The word was IT.


	9. Chapter 9

Beverly kicked a can along the broken concrete beneath her as she walked slowly towards her home from hell. Usually she’d have Richie to hang out with, the two of them being almost as inseparable as he was with Eddie. It was hard not having him around. The loudmouthed boy would often walk her home, both knowing that there were no romantic feelings behind it. Richie was like her nightlight, he showed her the light when she was at her lowest. Richie was the only one of the losers she felt comfortable with talking about her father. She remembered explaining her family life to Richie with tear stained cheeks and a bruised body and he just held her and told her a secret of his own, one that not even Eddie knew. She felt her eye’s prickle as she remembered the boy and kicked the can harder, causing it to go flying down a drain. She sighed dismally, seemed all her luck seemed to be flowing down drains these days. She finally approached her apartment and gulped, taking the stairs up to her floor two at a time before slowly opening the creaky front door. She winced at the sound, and swiftly pushed herself through the small crack she’d made and gently closed the door. 

She tiptoed past the living room, ignoring the harsh static from the television screen that was left on and focused on the body that lay in the musty recliner. The room was heavy with the scent of nicotine and alcohol, smells that became all too familiar for her at a young age. The man was breathing gently, his chest rising and falling in slow, rhythmic patterns and Beverley would’ve smiled at the peaceful scene if she didn’t know the man’s full potential. The only inkling anyone would have on his shady life was the way he held a bottle of liquor between his fingers, the tips clasping onto the neck of like he always grabbed her arm. She rubbed her wrist, wincing at the memory before slipping away towards her bedroom. She was elated, this might be the first night in a while where her father wouldn’t try to mess with her. Maybe she could finally sleep without feeling the pain of fresh bruises or listening to the torrential yells and furious banging on her door. Maybe tonight she could pretend she was part of a happy family unit. Her father thought otherwise.

“Where were you Bevvy?” A voice purred behind her and she shivered. Her father was in one of his moods. “I was out with my friends” She explained, moving to run to her room and bar the doors. A hand grasped her shoulder and spun her around. “Out with those boys again? Bevvy haven’t I warned you about them? They’re dangerous those boys, they’ll hurt you.” He cooed and ran a hand through her hair. She pulled away from him and started backing off towards the bathroom. “They’re not bad, I promise. You don’t even know them!” She growled, her back now pressed against the bathroom door. “Their growing boys Bevvy, I know what they do.” He spoke darkly, almost like he was foreshadowing events to come, and that was the last thing she wanted to hear from him. She turned the knob on the door, slid inside the bathroom and jammed it shut, locking it. Her father banged on the wooden barrier, spewing profanities at her but she just screamed and covered her ears, blocking out his disgusting language and squeezing her eyes shut waiting for it to be over. 

A few moments later he gave up, mumbling away to himself as he undoubtedly went to refill his liver with that deadly poison. Beverly curled up in the bathtub, hiding her face in her hands and letting out hushed, cocked sobs and wishing that she was anyone else. Wishing that she was away from this home and with her friends. Wishing that she had someone to talk to, wishing Richie was there to pat her shoulder sympathetically and say, ‘I know how you feel’. Her cries grew louder as she thought of the boy, dead in a gutter, never being able to tell them his disgusting comments or spew out the foul-mouthed humor that made them all roll their eyes and laugh. She would never be able to hear him laugh, hear him talk or even hear his poor impersonation that made them all roll their eyes at endearingly at him ever again. She wailed and curled into a tighter ball, ignoring the way her knees scrapped against the green tub or how her back ached from being in a weird position for too long. A sound from the drain beside her interrupted her thoughts. “Beverly?” A voiced called and she sat up, staring at the drain in abject horror. “W-who’s there?” She called, and the voice giggled and said no more. 

Beverly raised an eyebrow and approached the drain, eyeing it nervously. An echoing myriad of voice grew in volume the closer she shuffled until she could clearly make out the laughter of children. She paled, Richie and Georgie’s laughter were heard above everything else, their boisterous giggles chiming clear as rain for her to hear. She peered down the drain, hoping stupidly she could hear them calling out to her and telling her everything would be okay. She called out again, asking if anyone wanted help. The voices stopped instantly and a chuckling, wheezing tone spoke up. “You need it more than I do” It cackled, and suddenly red liquid began to bubble up through the drainpipe, tinting the porcelain tub a garish red. Beverly recognized the smell instantly and gagged, crawling backwards away from the pooling substance, that had now begun to gush from the drain like an open wound. She hopped out of the bathtub, thinking that she had escaped the worst of it when suddenly, the sink too joined in on the festivities, spewing the vile substance all over the walls and covering her already blood speckled clothes in the putrid substance. It splotched on the walls and gathered on the curtains and overflowed from the bath and developed in a pool around her feet. Beverly screamed, scrambling away, slipping and sliding till she was in the furthest corner from it all. It seemed that the blood would flow forever but then it suddenly begins to slow until it let out one final belch from its source and then quieted. Beverly screamed, her wide fearfully eyes following the dripping blood as it trailed path down her walls like trickling treacle on a cake. The room now shone a reddish hue as the blood caked the lights, the heat from the bulb causing the blood to bubble and boil creating a foul odor that made her gag horribly. She failed to notice her father barging in till it was too late. “Bevvy what’s wrong!” He called, and she blinked up at him, her body quacking with shock. “What do you mean?” She whispered “It’s everywhere, the blood, it’s all over the walls! It-It’s dripping down your face, it’s all over me!” She cried out pointing at the offending items, tears barrelling down your face. “Oh sweetie” he cooed, rubbing her cheek with cold hands, caking his palms in the visceral liquid. “You must be going crazy, all women do at your age” he explained solemnly and stood, walking towards the door, his footfalls splashing through the pooling blood. “Night my little girl” He crooned, and Beverly was left, shaking like a leaf in a blood-soaked bathroom.


	10. Chapter 10

Stan huffed as he pulled the straps of his backpack further up his shoulders, he didn’t think he could handle much more of this. First Richie’s dad, then Georgie and Richie go missing and now he hears that that stupid clown is real and none of it was fake. He mulled over everything that had happened in the past few weeks in disbelief, unsure of what to expect next. At this point he wouldn’t even be shocked if Henry Bowers started to be nice to them! He clambered up the stairs to the synagogue and opened the beautifully engraved doors, sighing in anticipation as he mentally prepared himself for the rant his father was about to go on. While his family was in no way abusive, they still didn’t always see eye to eye, his father more than his mother. Years from now he’d look back and realize that almost everyone had this relationship with their fathers and he was convinced they continue to have them till time became meaningless. His dad always complained that he should be praying more, or learning more from the Torah but Stan couldn’t for the life of him focus, not when one of his best friends and Georgie were missing.

“Out late again I see.” Stan’s father tutted, and he sighed. He was drumming his fingers impatiently on one of the temples pews, looking expectantly at him. He was begging for an argument. “Look Dad, can’t you cut me some slack? I’ve been hanging up posters for Richie all day!” Stan complained and refused to meet his father’s eye’s. His father went silent for a few minutes before clearing his throat and trying again. “Stan, sometimes prayer is one of the better ways to clear your head after a time like this.” He tired and Stan scowled. “I’m sorry Dad but praying is not going to bring them back, looking for them might at least give me some closure, if worse comes to worse.” He shuddered, his thoughts drifting to the corpses of young Georgie Denbrough and Richie Tozier and he shook his head, his hair flying everywhere. “I’m just trying to help Stanley, I just don’t want you to feel like you’ve got nothing to turn to” his father groaned, rubbing a hand down his face. “I know, I’m sorry Dad, I’m just stressed” Stan sighed, holding his arm awkwardly. The two shared a long silence before his father finally caved, sniffing and turning away from him. “It’s alright son, throw your bag in the back room, your mothers nearly finished with dinner” His father sighed, waving a hand signalling his leave. Stan all but ran to the room and closed the door behind him, before cursing silently to himself. He ran a shaking hand through his hair and combed it slowly, relaxing his aching nerves. He always ended up making these conversations with his father heated. 

He hurled his bag into the corner of the room, wincing as it knocked nearly a whole shelves worth of books onto the wooden floor. “Oh fuck” He grumbled and ran forward, making extreme efforts to ignore the picture his dad had hanging precariously on the wall beside him. That distorted women always freaked him out and one look at her would cause him to have nightmares for weeks, plus the picture would always hang awfully on the wall no matter how many times Stan had adjusted it. He hastily piled the books into the selves arranging them by height and alphabetically order till they were filled neatly into their compact homes. He sighed contently, for once feeling the traces of familiarity coursing through his veins. All of that was shattered by the slamming of that dreaded painting from behind him. Stan froze, back rigid and sucked in a breath. “Relax Stan, this happens every once and a while, you can deal with this, it’s okay no clown, don’t panic” He murmured to himself, slowly turning around, his eyes glued shut. He stood there anticipating a blow, a scream, anything and yet nothing happened. He slowly cracked open his eyes and looked around the room expectantly but saw nothing had changed save for the fallen picture frame. He breathed a sigh of relief and walked slowly towards the fallen frame, turning it to hang it on the wall and maybe find a way to stop it from tilting sideways. When he turned the picture to face him, he noticed that there was something missing, someone missing. He paled, and his mouth went dry. The lady that haunted his dreams was nowhere to be found, only his reflection in the slightly chipped glass looked back at him. Something fell from the corner of the room and he froze again, slowly turned around and looked behind him. What he saw made him let out a noiseless scream, his fast heaving breaths taking over and blocking any noise that tried to filter out of him.

The women from the picture stood there, her porcelain fingers clasping her flute daintily in her pale hands and if it weren’t for her face Stan would’ve thought her to be a pleasant lady. Her face, however was her defining characteristic, its warped features stared back at him showing no emotion. It was extremely gaunt and long and nothing like Stan had ever seen before on a living breathing human being. Her pale, lifeless crooked eye’s gleamed in the pale light of the room and if Stan really stared he could see his own horror-struck expression in them. She suddenly, dropped the metallic instrument from her grip, causing the poor boy to jump in fear as it rolled ominously towards him before lightly tapping against his shoes. She then charged at him, her movement’s calculated and snake like as she bared her ferocious teeth at him, pulling her lips back like a dog and snarling at him. He really did scream this time and bolted from the room, hearing her labored breaths and harsh footsteps directly behind him. He pulled the door horridly and slammed it at the same pace, almost tearing it off its hinges. He shakily locked it, fighting against the creatures attempts of opening the door, ignoring his mother and father’s questioning cries. He held his ground, battling against the furious handle shaking before it finally ceased, and everything went silent. He wailed in relief and crumbled in a heap outside the thin wall separating him from the thing he fears most.


	11. Chapter 11

Bill lazily kicked some small pebbles into the gurgling stream beside him and huffed, shoving his hands deep inside the confines of his pockets. He had arrived at the Barrens ahead of schedule, a thing he’s been doing for years now, even before those two went missing. Sometimes it was nice to be alone. Though nowadays being alone was like walking along a tightrope, where your sanity was the only thing that stopped you from hurtling into the darkness below you. His mind was in a constant battle with itself, trying desperately to find the answers to his millions of unsolvable questions. He was wary to think of anything for too long anyway, because that would only leave him with either a splitting headache or a mental breakdown. Sometimes both. 

He remembered back to when they first went missing. The day had been so bright, so normal, they hadn’t seen it coming, it was like the tinniest grey cloud on an otherwise clear day or a car without its headlights driving in the dark and windy night. Bill shuddered, remembering how he turned the corner of a nearby alleyway, he remembered thinking that they had to be in there. When they weren’t he really began to panic though at the time he didn’t notice the weird aura that filled the alley or how it all seemed to stem from one deserted corner. Now the losers had all agreed that the kidnapping (that’s what they were calling it, for mentioning the word murder around Bill, Eddie or Beverly was just begging for hysterics) had happened in or around that corner. They all felt sick now whenever they walked past it, yet still checked down the shaded area, never losing the hope that miraculously their trashmouth and little Georgie would hop out and yell ‘Boo!! Bet we scared you good!!’.

Bill would always ignore the snide remarks from Henry Bowers as they hung up the missing posters. “He’s never gonna turn up, so s-s-s-stop trying!” He’d mock, imitating Bill’s stutter so convincingly that if anyone heard him, they’d be sure he had one to. He’d never react to any of his comments, not the ones about how they were hiding out somewhere, or that Richie had taken the younger Denbrough himself, or how he should stop looking for his fag boyfriend or how they were defiantly dead in a ditch somewhere or their corpses were drifting down the Penobscot River. No, he never said a word, he ignored every one of them, sometimes he heaved deeper breaths or tears would prickle the corners of eyes, but he never spoke. Not to someone who didn’t even deserve to talk about two of his most favorite people in the first place. His friends would stand up for the two, throwing back rude comments or gestures that would usually result in a punch and few more profanities, sometimes Henry’s gang would even lay into Bill in some mad attempt to get him to speak, but he never said a word, not even when they broke his nose and he was called a freak. He’d talk to his friends about it later, they’d ask him why he didn’t speak up, why he didn’t fight back, and his answer would always be the same. They weren’t worth the time of day. 

Bill was also the only looser who periodically called to Richie’s house, despite their first rude encounter with Richie’s dreaded father. They had all shown up at the Tozier’s doorstep on the second day with no sign of Richie and were greeted by the most disgusting creature Bill had ever encountered. He man reeked of alcohol and swayed slightly as he stood at the door with greasy disheveled black hair and a scratchy, poorly shaven five o clock shadow. He wore the filthiest wife beater Bill had ever seen and didn’t even have the dignity to not answer the door in his fucking boxers. “What you want?” He slurred lowly and Bev instantly stepped back a good bit, this image was all too familiar to her but of course none of the other losers had known at the time, otherwise they would’ve left her out of this entire conversation. “Is Richie home?” Stan asked, well more demanded leaving no room for misinterpretation. The man shrugged and stood there silently, still rocking form side to side. “Aren’t you going to check?” Eddie spoke up now, his fists clenched so hard the skin around his fingers had turned white. “The fucker won’t come when’s he’s called what makes you think he’ll come now?” He snarled questioningly, moving to close the door but Mike, clearly the oldest, tallest and strongest of the group of them wedged his foot in the door, wincing as Richie’s father tried to slam it off his toes. “Richie! Are you there?!” Ben yelled, and the rest of the losers joined in until they were interrupted by Richie’s dad screaming at them all to shut up. “I should have known that Richie would tell his little fag friends about me, fucking bastard. Never understood what the word ‘shut up’ meant” The man glowered, ignoring Eddie’s indignant squawk. The man was mumbling to himself now, clearly off his head on some sort of drug that Bill was sure wasn’t prescription. Everyone had to practically glue their feet to the floor as to not charge at the man for revenge, to think that Richie had to put up with him. The group turned on their heels and left shortly after that, being sure to raise a furious middle finger at the man in the house before gathering again at the barrens to vent their frustrations about him.

Bill however found that the hardest thing about all of this, aside from losing his two greatest friends, was the way his parents just gave up. After the first few days of searching they just resigned, they didn’t even bother to try look for him. Bill tried to get their hopes up, be optimistic, say that they’ll have Georgie back soon, but they always dismissed him. Up until now Bill had always though his parents were amazing but now he wasn’t so sure. They had begun to discuss what was to be done with Georgie’s room, they talked about him as if he was already dead, much to Bill’s dismay and dread. They’d talk of what to do with Georgie’s toy’s, his bedsheets, his teddy bears even his old photo album, they knew that meant the world to him. One-day Bill foolishly interrupted his parent’s discussions and asked, “Why are you t-t-t-talking about th-th-this, Juh-Juh-Georgie’s gonna come home any day now, juh-juh-just you wait!” Bill spoke up, still holding out hope. His parent’s fell silent for a moment and then his mother burst into tears and ran from the table, hiding away up in her room. “Why can’t you just forget about him Bill?! His dead, he’s gone!! He’s never coming back!” His father had yelled at him, slamming his fist down on the table causing cutlery to fly everywhere. Bill had stayed the night at Stan’s after that. 

Bill’s heart ached for everything to return to the way it used to be, he missed the way Georgie would throw himself at him every morning and demand to go outside and play or how Richie would always try and come up with ways to out stage Ben in his dam building contests (he always lost). He missed how every night during Summer Vacation, he would sit next to his little brother and watch the stupidest of movies with a bucket of popcorn balanced carelessly between them and not care that they’d be laughing to loud or that they’d have to get up early the next day to go to church or worse visit one of their many relatives. He longed for the days where Richie would just lie down next to him and they’d talk about anything and everything ranging from their friends to school to home life and their biggest dreams. Bill’s thoughts were interrupted when heard the unmistakable sound of the other loser’s talking quietly amongst themselves and the scarping of their bike tires as the peddled closer. His cheeks were wet with tears he wasn’t even sure he knew the origins off. He rubbed his eye’s furiously and sniffed, trying to hide the fact that he had been crying to everyone, but they all knew. “Ready?” Mike asked patting him on the back. He looked around his group of friends and was met with stoic yet hopefully faces, all of them carrying various amounts of supplies. “Ready as I’ll ever be! Let’s go find Georgie and Richie!” He smiled and hopped on his trusted steed, his precious Silver. No one said a word, but all shared a knowing proud look, he didn’t stutter once.


	12. Chapter 12

Richie spluttered, springing to life on the cold, wet concrete beneath him. He heaved huge chugging breaths of tainted air as his eyes slowly adjusted to the darkness around him. Was he dead? Was this the afterlife? “Some afterlife” He grumbled sarcastically, wincing at his coarse voice, broken by screaming he couldn’t remember doing. He turned to look at his surroundings, wherever he was it was not pretty. Grey, sluggish water clung to small, yet deep puddles and the whole place reeked of shit and piss. “Grey water” Richie mumbled to himself, remember the disgusted cries from Eddie when they had to cycle through the stuff after a pipe burst on Witchman street. The thing that caught his eye however, and was hard to be missed, was the large pile of miscellaneous children’s possessions, ranging from teddy bears to coloring books. The origins of such weird objects unsettled Richie because you could just blame it on the water, say that it carried them here, but it was clearly arranged in some order, there was some sadistic cleanliness to it. A multitude of small ‘jack in the boxes’ were littered around the place, playing a low, haunting melody and a massive stage was seated in the center of it all, the name of its owner worn away with age. If Richie squinted (his now smudged glasses already impeding his eyesight severely) he could just barely make out the words inscribed in peeling golden paint, ‘WISE’ and ‘CLOWN’. Richie sat up straighter, the clown, that fucking clown. Georgie had been right all along. “Georgie!!” He called out and looked around him in panic, his eye’s fluttering to everything he saw around him until he saw a human like figure huddled in the corner. He scrambled to his feet, racing towards the child, wincing whenever his foot dipped into a disgustingly large puddle of shit water. He grasped the child’s cold shoulder and spun them around.

The child looking back at him was not Georgie but defiantly wasn’t of this living world. The entirety of the left side of their face was gone, leaving a deep sucking hole where maggots and flies roamed free, sucking up the remains of the child’s face in neat little bites. The child’s right eye ball was swinging slightly, as it hung freely from its gaping socket and a horrified silent scream was painted on their lips, a large millipede worming its way between their half-broken teeth. One of the child’s arms was gone and the white socket joint shone out against the dull, maroon blood that caked the area. Richie dropped the body and heaved, falling to his hands and knees as he vomited up everything he had eaten in huge, vile chucks. Once he regained his voice, he screamed, scrambling away from the disgusting sight and gagging again as the child stared back at him through its pale, lifeless eyes. He was about to let loose another blood curdling shriek when he heard a pitiful cry. It was Georgie. “Georgie, where are you? It’s Richie!” He called, swaying slightly as he stood up, attempting to ignore the lifeless body in the corner and ignoring the way his mind screamed at him calming that he was next. He saw the younger Denbrough boy, crying to himself and looking around him with panicked eyes. Richie charged at him, relief coursing through his veins and started calling his name. “Richie!!” Georgie cried and ran into his arms, squeezing him tightly and burying his face in his chest. “It’s okay Georgie, I got you it’s okay! We’re going to wipe those tears and then find a way out of here!” Richie knelt, whipping the boy’s cheeks and grabbing his hand, tugging towards the open sewer pipe that yawned hopefully for them. Georgie nodded and the two began to set off walking confidently towards their escape. A wheezing high-pitched giggle made them freeze and Richie pulled Georgie closer. “Shit” He mumbled and ignored Georgie’s high-pitched cries. 

The clown loomed from out of the sewer pipe, grinning widely at them and Richie felt like he had been bolted to the floor, fear gripping his entire system. IT was like the embodiment of the boogie man himself, the living nightmare that every child had ever dreamed, and every adult had ever remembered. “Leaving so soon!” It sung, it’s eyes manic, slobber drooling from its curled lips as it glared hungrily at them. Richie turned and ran tugging Georgie up around his shoulders, so they could move faster. “Run Richie run!!” The young boy cried, eye’s locked with the charging monster and they both shivered, as the clown let out a howling laugh of delight, the chase was on. Richie rounded the huge pile of discarded toys and shrieked as the clown popped out in front of him, yelling at the top of its lungs and waving manically at him. “Run Richie Run!” It mocked playfully, clapping his hands in delight as Richie turned and ran again only to find the clown was now right in front of his face, a gloved hand reaching to grab Georgie’s neck. “Fuck no!” Richie yelled and pushed the younger boy behind him, glaring fearfully at the creature before him, shaking where he stood. The clown pouted and whined, moving closer and closer into Richie’s space until his clawed hands reached for his neck. “Richie!” Georgie cried as the other boy was hoisted off his feet and forced to stare the clown in his gleaming yellow eyes, forced to stare into they eyes of a creature that haunted his living nightmares every time he went to some rich kid’s birthday party or went the Fourth of July festival, those eyes had always been on him. 

“Tasty, tasty, beautiful fear!” It sang gleefully, sniffing Richie’s face as he screamed in terror, pulling at the hands clasped around his neck to no avail. “So much fear, you fear so much yet so little, so easy, far too easy” The clown cheered, watching the older boy with psychotic eye’s as he floundered in its grip. Richie’s breath was now coming in rushed heaves as oxygen left his body never to return, the clowns grip tightening like a python around its pray. IT copied his fading breaths with delight and stroked his face in mock pity, making soft yet condescending tutting sounds. “Richie no!!” Georgie cried, and the clown looked over at him with interest, cocking its head to the side and staring the terrified child down. “Don’t you even think about it” Richie coughed out and the clown looked back at him with glee. It dropped Richie, who instantly scuttled back away from it and huddled in a corner, Georgie packed safely behind him. 

The clown stood there silently, watching the two from afar, before grinning and charging forward hollering in delight. The two boys screamed, Georgie squeezing his eyes shut and Richie pulling his hand’s in front of his face. It laughed again and stood over them taunting the two children until their voices grew hoarse with screams. “I’ll feast on your flesh as I feed on your fear” It cheered with delight as it danced around then, tears streaming down the two boy’s faces as they shock in fear. Richie squeezed his eyes shut and then just like that IT was gone. For a while the only noise around the was the dripping of water into puddles, their rapid breathing and the faint but ever-present giggles of the creature that had just terrorized them. Then Georgie wailed and clung to Richie, who turned around slightly to face him. “I’m scared Richie, I want to go home” He cried, and Richie curled a protective arm around him. “I am too Georgie, I’m so fucking afraid” Richie sniffled and hugged the younger Denbrough closer, the two only falling asleep when their bodies couldn’t their eyes open any longer.


	13. Chapter 13

The loser’s stared up at the looming house in front of them fearfully, wincing as the wind blew through the cracked windows, creating a low howling sound. The littered sunflowers in the front yard, swayed from side to side lazily, blissfully unaware of the horrors that lay around them. The long bristling, lifeless grass tickled their legs as they walked towards the front porch. Bill stepped forward, standing up on the deliberated steps and turned to face his friends. He winced as they squealed in protest as the rest of the losers joined him. “This house is falling to ruins as we speak!” Ben gawked, moving to step away from the creaking roof. The others nodded slowly in agreement, enamored by the house that was left for nature to run its course on. Why had it come to grow like this? Who lived here last? Did they even want to know the answers to those questions? “I don’t think we should all go in at the same time, the floorboards might break from under us” Stan pointed out, jumping as the house let out a creaking sigh of approval. Everyone seemed to agree and they all pulled straws, though everyone knew who wanted to be inside that house the most. Eddie and Bill drew the shortest straws, much to their delight and charged forward, ignoring the anxiety ridden faces of their friends. “Guys!” Mike called after them, and they stopped turning to face them with a stoic expression on their faces. “Stay safe” He pleaded, and the two boys smiled, giving some thumbs up before entering through the dark, groaning doors of the old house on Neibolt Street. 

The boys shuffled into the main room, avoiding any of the larger cobwebs and squinting in the darkness, trying to find any clues that would point them to Georgie or Richie’s whereabouts. “Gross!” Eddie gagged, scrunching his nose up in disgust as a rat ran past their feet. Bill found himself making the same expression, the house smelled dreadful, like something had died in there and been left to rot, except that smell was combined with a dank, musty smell that swept over the place like light from a window. They could hear the other losers outside chatting worriedly to one another about the Clown and emergency escape plans, but they ignored them. They twisted and turned their way through gangly vines of twirling ivy that seemed the stretch towards them as they walked through the crumbling hallways. Soon enough they reached a series of doors, all locked and held strong against Bill and Eddies barraging shoves against them. “This p-p-p-place is so weird” Bill mumbled, and Eddie nodded, feeling the hidden eyes of the house’s possessor watching them from the shadows. IT knew they were here. The two carried on searching in silence until they eventually found a staircase. It stood tall and powerful against the deteriorating house, showing no signs of age. The banisters and steps were made from a fine oak wood, that had only began chipping with age and cobwebs decorated the empty corners of the tall steps. They took a hesitant step upwards and sighed with relief as it held them happily and they continued, tiptoeing up the stairs like they were breaking and entering somebody else home. 

The upstairs of the house proved to be no different from the downstairs save for the light pouring through the dirty windows. The sun shone happily in the dingy house and the dust particles swam around in the beams, dancing like small fireflies in front of their eyes. Eddie’s mind flashed to something Stan had told him about dust, something about how it could kill you if you took too much of it in and he hastily motioned to Bill to cover his mouth with his shirt. The two moved on, checking every door they came to, rattling the golden doorknobs to no avail until they were staring down a corridor and the door at the end of it. It was wide open. Just as they were about to call out a young boy dragged himself to the entrance of the doorway and sniffled, rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet innocently, arms hanging ramrod straight by his side. “Georgie” Bill stammered and froze, his eye’s brimming with tears. He was alive, he knew Georgie was alive. He charged forward rushing to the room and opening his arms to hug the boy. The door slammed behind him, with Eddie still trapped on the other side. 

“Bill!!” Eddie cried, banging on the door as hard as his fists would let him, he heard Bill crying from behind it and tried to kick it down. When that failed, he clawed at the handle pointlessly, desperate to get in and save his friend. He should’ve know it was a trap, it was so obviously a ploy, he should’ve- “Eddie” an all too familiar voice croaked out and Eddie froze. “Richie” He breathed and a door to his left creaked open, coughing and wheezing echoed from behind it. Eddie scrambled towards it and ignored the sound of the door as it closed lightly behind him. “Oh god!” He cried, hands flying around his mouth as he looked at the sight before him. Richie Tozier was sat in a pool of his own blood, an angry, red wound glowing from around his midsection. His hair was soaked with what smelt like a mixture of blood and sweat and his coke-bottle glasses were cracked and lay askew on his face. His usually bright brown eyes were dull and emotionless as he met Eddie’s eyes. He chuckled lowly and gave him a soft smile. “Heya Eds” he chocked, and Eddie fell to his knees beside him.

“Georgie, oh th-th-th-thank fuck you’re o-o-o-okay!” Bill cried moving to hug him, tears of relief trickling down his cheeks. “Of course, I’m okay, why wouldn’t I be?” He giggled childishly, and Bill stopped, looking down at him with raised eyebrows. “You’ve been m-m-m-missing for weeks Juh-Juh-Georgie! Mom and D-D-Dad are worried sick!” He sniffed, kneeling to look his brother in the eye. It was then when he realized that whatever this was, it wasn’t Georgie. Large, gleaming yellow eyes grinned back at him and he froze, icy fear seeping into his bones. “Don’t you re-re-remember Juh-Juh-Juh-Georgie, the c-c-c-clown” Bill tried, his hands shaking and his entire body screaming at him to run, run away from this demon that was portraying itself as his missing brother. “The clown is great Billy!! He made me float! If you join me, you’ll float to Billy! It’s such fun Bill! Richie’s floating too, they all float down there!” Georgie chirped, a jovial grin on his face, and Bill paled standing up and looking at this creature with fearful eyes. “You’ll float too” Georgie sang, his pitch distorting and rising an octave every time he spoke, and Bill felt his heart leap into his chest. He ignored the high-pitched screaming from Georgie as he started writhing painfully, smile fading into a maddened snarl, his lips curling back to reveal a vicious set of inhuman, razor sharp teeth. He ignored how a menacing figure was now looming over the fake Georgie, waving its hands like it was conducting him, and he ignored the screams from Eddie. He did not however ignore the snapping of a lock opening, he looked to the door he came through, threw it open and ran.

“Oh, Jesus Richie?! What happened?!? Are you okay?!” Eddie cried, crawling over to the boy and holding his head in his lap, brushing away the curling strands of hair that had gathered behind his glasses. The sight of so much blood had him feeling lightheaded and the smell from his friend was so vile Eddie had to force back a gag. His mind was flaring with warnings, diseases, what if Richie had a disease, but he shook them away. Right now, his main concern was Richie and how he could best help him, not the shit his Mother had drilled into his head since he was a young boy. Richie wheezed out a tinny chuckle which then transitioned to a hacking cough. “Just peachy” He mumbled sarcastically, raising a hand to hold his wound laboriously. Eddie stood up, searching around the room for anything to help the boy but found nothing. “Okay Richie, you gotta stand up okay? We gotta get you out of here before that thing gets back” Eddie explained holding out a hand for the other boy to grab, panic etched onto his face. Richie grasped it firmly and tugged Eddie to the ground so he fell on top of him, resulting in the smaller boy letting out an unattractive squawk of surprise. “I don’t know Eds, I like where you are now!” He smirked cheekily and Eddie blushed, fighting his way off him. “Now’s not the time trashmouth” He glowered and tried again, this time fighting against Richie’s tugs. “Come on Ed’s, don’t you love me?” He purred, and Eddie made a sound of mock disgust. “Richie come on, we’ve gotta leave!!” Eddie pleaded, tugging the boy to his feet. “Why don’t we stay Eds? You’ll like it here, no mom’s or bullies to worry about, no one to look at you and see you being the fag that you know you are!” Richie voiced contorted, now sounding like a dying toy that was losing power. “What the hell…” Eddie’s words died in his throat as he turned and faced the loudmouthed boy. His face was cracked open, teeth missing and claw marks covering his body. There were scabbed over dots lining his upper and lower lips that almost resembled the entry and exit wounds of a stitching and his eyes were like a cat, gleaming yellow in the darkness of the room. “I know you like boys Eddie Spaghetti, everyone knows you do, it’s not a secret!! I know you like me!!” He sang darkly, and reached out for the boy, who flinched away from his grip. “You-You’re not Richie!” Eddie stuttered and the creature posing as his greatest friend chuckled and slithered closer, its jaw unhinged. Before Eddie could react, the floor opened beneath him and he did the only thing he could do. He screamed.


	14. Chapter 14

Bill charged down the stairs, ignoring the hysterical laughter that seemed to come from all around him. He rounded a corner and ran headfirst into something ice cold. He froze, looking up to meet those same gleaming snake-like eyes he’d seen a few moments ago and they looked back at him with the same teasing gaze. “Hiya Billy Boy!” The clown sang, and Bill screamed, turning and running in the opposite direction, he knew he didn’t know where he was going, and the clown knew that too. He was lost in a maze of stretching rooms and never-ending corridors, where one wrong move would result in a dead end or worse. So long as he had no idea where he was going, the clown had him right where it wanted him. Bill stumbled into a broken-down kitchen, his breath coming in rapid, wheezing gasps. That was when he saw an unconscious Eddie, lying underneath a crumbling hole in the paneled ceiling. 

“Oh f-f-f-f-f-fuck! Oh sh-sh-sh-sh-shit!!” He yelled and skidded over to the fallen boy, ignoring the way his knees stung as he dragged them across the floor. He was still breathing, although it was incredibly panicked. “E-Eddie!! W-w-wake up! Jesus f-f-fuck wake up!!” Bill pleaded, shaking the poor boy with strength he didn’t even know he had. Eddie spluttered to life, his chest rising and falling with every breath he drew into his shaking body. His quivering hands fumbled with the zips of his fanny pack helplessly as he gasped for air. Bill helped him and shoved the aspirator into his mouth pushing it for the boy when he was signalled to. Eddie’s breathing finally fell to a relaxed pace and the two shared a look before Eddie burst into tears. “I saw him Bill, I fucking saw him he was right there, oh fuck he was right there!” He sobbed, and Bill hugged him close, his heart slowly beginning to return to its normal resting rate. “I saw Juh-Juh-Georgie” Bill muttered and the two shared a look. They needed to get out here before any other weird shit happened.

Just as they began to stand up, the fridge creaked, and they froze. A white gloved hand reached out from behind the door of the fridge, tapping out a nursery rhyme on the metal frame before finally kicking it off its hinges. The clown stood on its head, grinning at them before waving, except it wasn’t an open palm looking back at them. It was the clown’s knuckles. The creature spider crawled its way out of its hiding spot and morphed its body, cracking it into place as its spine twisted and curved around it and its shoulders clicked disgustingly. Its head remained stationary as it stared the two boys down with bloodthirsty eyes, to it they were simply flies in its long reaching web. “Hiya Billy Boy, Wheezy” He greeted playfully, before leaning down to their level “Time to float”. Bill and Eddie shrieked and backed away from the creature who cackled and followed them, swaying from side to side and screaming with them. Eddie tripped and fell over a large chunk of debris and tugged Bill down with him making them both scurry away from the monster, who eyed them hungrily as slobber dribbled down its chin. They were backed up against a wall, no escape, Bill knew this was their end, Eddie knew this was their end. Eddie screamed again, hysterical tears rolling down his face and Bill grabbed him and turned the boy making him face him. 

“Come on E-E-E-Eddie, don’t look at IT just th-th-th-think of our f-f-f-friends!! Think of that g-g-g-girl you’re always t-t-t-talking about!! Think about all the f-f-f-fun things we did this su-su-su-summer! Remember w-w-w-when we all ju-ju-ju-jumped from the cliff at th-th-the quarry and had the best s-s-s-swim of our lives? Remember when w-w-we all tricked your mom into l-l-l-letting you go s-s-sleep at the Barrens one n-n-night by t-t-t-telling her we were s-s-staying w-w-with Richie?” Bill roared, tears pouring down his face as Eddie nodded, his breath come in squeaking sobs. “Bill, think of that time when you went swimming with Georgie in early November and were sick for weeks!! Remember that one time you embarrassed Henry Bowers in the cafeteria and the whole school cheered for you! Remember how you rode Silver down that hill so fast you created skid marks.” Eddie cried, and Bill whimpered, hugging his friend close, this was their end. The clown mocked them joyously, mimicking their cries and screams as it swung itself forward, poised to kill.

“Holy fucking shit!” Stan cried, gazing at the abomination before him. The clown swung round to face the other children who had joined them in the delipidated kitchen and before it could even move, Mike had thrown Beverly a sharp, iron rod and she jammed it through the creature’s skull. It shirked in agony and pulled away, lashing out at the other losers. Ben yelped in pain as the created clawed at his arm, creating three long angry marks that seeped blood on his pale skin. The clown turned around to face them again and they were greeted by a gruesome sight, one of its eye balls danced around his cheekbone and his smile was wide and lopsided, almost like it was trying to escape from the rest of its face. He staggered towards the new group and Mike’s arms shot out, pushing Beverly, Ben and Stan back from the monster’s reach. Pennywise let out another ghoulish chuckle before bowing comically and slinking away out towards the basement. Everyone simply watched as it scurried through the darkened doorway. “After it!” Eddie yelled shakily, standing up on wobbly feet. They charged forward and followed it down creaking steps and they caught a glimpse of the monster slithering down a deep, crumbling well. It chuckled at them darkly, maintaining eye contact with each of them until eventually, it could no longer be seen.

“Holy shit are you guys okay?!” Mike cried once they were away from the street. Bill and Eddie were still shaking like leaves and had barely said a word to the others, preferring to cling to one anothers sides instead. They were sat all huddled around Ben in the alleyway beside the Pharmacy where Stan and Beverly had bought some supplies for the bleeding boy. “Just a l-l-l-little s-s-shaken that’s all, no in-in-injuries” Bill stammered, his eyes flickering around them, still terrified the clown could be watching them, waiting to pounce again. “We s-s-saw stuff in there, like w-w-what you guys s-s-saw” He continued, and Eddie nodded. “I saw Richie, Bill saw Georgie.” Eddie said dully, and the others shared a confused look. “I can understand why Bill saw Georgie but why would you see Richie? It’s not like you’re scared of him.” Ben asked, and everyone looked to Eddie for an answer. “It’s more so what he said scared me. It’s honestly something that I should’ve told you about a while ago, but I’ve been too scared of your reaction to do so. Today proved that I can’t keep hiding it from you guys, I can’t keep hiding it from myself.” He sighed, and the others leaned in closer, tentatively waiting for Eddies next words. “All those times I gushed about the girls from camp I thought looked cute or the friend of my cousins who I told you guys I dated last Summer was all a lie, I’ve never had a girlfriend, never had a crush, I’ve never even kissed a girl!” he spluttered, a broken laugh croaking out of his throat as his entire body started shaking. His heart was pounding in his chest, his palms were drenched in sweat and his throat was dry. The group of friends glanced at each other before once again returning their full attention to Eddie. “Guys, I’m gay” He stammered, and everyone fell silent. 

Eddie hung his head, unwilling to look at their reactions, they were repulsed and disgusted with him, he knew they were. They’d tell everyone, they’d tell The Bowers and the school, maybe even his own mother! His eyes welled up with the tears at the thought, the conversation she’d have with him, how she’d tell him he was ‘incredibly sick’ and that ‘they can get through this’. How she’d force him to go to conversion camps and talk to homophobic priest who said that God would shun him, that God would send him to live out the rest of his days in hell where he belonged. He’d be forced to settle down with some quite girl that acted exactly the way his mother wanted her to act and then forced to have kids with her. Eddie shuddered at the thought and clenched his fists so hard the area around his grip turned white. He squeezed his eyes shut and braced himself for the worst. The others looked at one another before finally Bev smiled softly, walking towards the boy and hugging him tightly. One by one the others joined, muttering words of praise and kindness whilst doing so and Eddie couldn’t help but to start crying with relief. “You’re not mad?” He blubbered, and the others shook their heads. “Why would we get mad over something so great?! This doesn’t change anything, you’re still our Eddie!” Mike chuckled and ruffled the boy’s hair. “Yeah, you’re still Eddie, we love you man, you’re like a brother to us!” Stan explained and hugged the smaller boy again, squeezing him tighter. “I’m going to have to tell Richie when we find him, I hope he won’t be mad” Eddie chewed his lip nervously and Beverly let out a roaring laugh. “Oh, please Richie is like obsessed with you, I think he’d be glad if you tell him!” She wheezed, and the others rolled their eyes. “That was very b-b-brave of you Eddie” Bill smiled fondly at him and Eddie returned it. “Thanks, Big Bill” Eddie sniffed, whipping the last remaining tears of joy from his cheeks. They all fell into a comfortable silence before it was broken by Eddie clearing his throat. “Guys, I know that we’re all still spooked by what we just saw but we have to go back to that house! We found its lair and I know Georgie and Richie are still alive, I can feel it!” He explained, and the others agreed. Tomorrow they were going to set out for the house one final time, pack an entire arsenal of weaponry with them, find Georgie and Richie and then kick the shit out of that mother fucking clown.


	15. Chapter 15

Richie awoke to a whimpering Georgie Denbrough, snuggling closer to his chest, evidently having a nightmare. “Georgie buddy wake up, it’s okay, you’re with your favorite person ever!” Richie laughed hollowly and gently nudged the boy awake. Georgie jumped to life and cried lightly, hugging Richie closer and the older boy reciprocated, rubbing his back lightly. “Relax Georgie Porgie, it’s not here and even if it was I wouldn’t let it hurt you.” Richie promised, tightening his grip when he heard a pipe slamming to the floor. Either something fell into the sewer from above or they weren’t alone anymore. They stayed silent for a while, Richie instinctively pushing the younger boy behind him and straightening his back, glaring off into the darkness that surrounded them. “Is he here?” Georgie murmured, peeking his head out from behind Richie’s back, eyes dancing around them, fear gripping his system. “It Georgie, you call creatures like this it” Richie replied cheekily and despite everything Georgie giggled from behind him. 

“Juh-Juh-Juh-Georgie?” A voice called from the darkness and both boys stiffened. “Billy?!” Georgie cried and jumped up, Richie following his movements, keeping the boy behind him. “W-w-w-where are you? Are you h-h-h-hurt?” Bill called out, his voice bouncing all around them and making it sound like he was everywhere at once. “We’re fine! Richie and I are okay!” Georgie bellowed, tears of relief threatening to spill from his eyes. Richie felt that twinge of joy but that wasn’t all that flowed through him, the nerves he felt in his system overpowered all the relief he should’ve been feeling. Something wasn’t right. Bill stepped out from the darkness and smiled timidly at the two. Georgie fought against Richie’s grip, struggling to get to the now outstretched arms of his older brother. “Georgie stay put for one second okay, I just don’t think that this is Bill. He found us really quickly, way to quickly to be normal.” Richie eyed Bill suspiciously and Bill rolled his eyes and huffed back at him. “Come h-h-here Georgie” Bill beckoned but Georgie did as he was told and clung to Richie, still staring longingly at his brother.

Suddenly Bill’s whole demeanor changed, he tutted angrily and crossed his arms, staring furiously at Georgie. “This is j-j-j-just so f-f-f-fucking typical of you Juh-Juh-Juh-Georgie! You’ve always been a c-c-coward!” Bill scoffed, and Richie squawked indignantly. Georgie gasped and whimpered, tears blurring his vision as he took a fear-full step back. “You always c-c-c-come into my room and b-b-bother me about th-th-the stupidest sh-sh-shit! I don’t care about your fu-fu-fucking boats Georgie” Bill screamed, and Georgie started to cry wailing out at every harsh word his brother threw at him. Richie couldn’t believe what he was hearing. This was Bill saying all these things, Bill who spoke so highly of his brother, Bill who tried to beat up Henry Bowers when they teased his brother after school, Bill who has told him on multiple occasions that he would even die for Georgie if he had to. It was then when Richie saw those haunting yellow eyes and he knew exactly what was happening. 

“Georgie, this isn’t Bill, ignore him” Richie pleaded, but Georgie only screamed louder as Bill roared out more degrading insults, dragging his brother through the mud. Richie looked down at the younger Denbrough who was now practically curled up in a ball on the verge of what looked like a panic attack. “Georgie, I hate you!” Bill yelled, and that was the last straw. Georgie screamed, his voice cracking under the force of it and Richie winced. His breathing now came in rushed puffs and his entire body was shaking with grief. Richie knelt beside him and tugged the boy close to his chest, despite his feeble protest and shoves. “Shut the fuck up!!” He shouted at a taunting Bill and buried Georgie’s head in his shoulder, facing him away from his brother, or at least the creature that was impersonating him. The creature seemed happy with the destruction it caused, an inhuman smile crawling up Bill’s face before he giggled and faded off into the darkness. It was over.

Richie stared down at the still screaming Georgie, trying to figure out what to do, he’d never been at this end of a panic attack before, he was usual the one having them and somehow, he didn’t think Eddie’s breathing control would help the younger Denbrough, who had as hard a time concentrating on stuff as he did. So, Richie did the only thing he could do, he started talking. “Y’know Georgie sometimes when I’m feeling sad or scared I do stupid things to cheer me up!” He began, his voice quivering but still maintaining its usual cheeriness. Georgie’s screams died down, but he still sobbed on, silently listening to Richie’s quite conversation. “I read this joke book that good old Stan the Man got me when we were only six years of age, can you imagine?! Me, Richie ‘Trashmouth’ Tozier keeping a book for that fucking long!” Richie chuckled lowly, smiling when he saw the comers of the younger boy’s lips quirk upwards slightly. “Sometimes I’ll remind Eds of that when he’s mocking me! Like when he says, ‘Oh Richie you’re so stupid’ I’ll say ‘Well do you have a book that Stanley gave you? Ha didn’t think so!’. He says that doesn’t make any sense but Georgie, between you and me, I think he’s jealous of all my smarts.” Richie babbled on, doing a terrible impression Eddie and making Georgie giggle slightly in the process. He wasn’t even sure what he was talking about anymore, but it was working so he continued. “Do you wanna hear one of the jokes?” Richie asked, and Georgie nodded shakily, his head still buried in Richie’s shoulder, his small fingers clasping on to the other boy’s T-Shirt for dear life. “Have you heard the rumor going around about Butter? Never mind, I shouldn’t be spreading it.” Richie said monotonously, and Georgie laughed loudly, letting his head roll back with giggles of delight. Richie beamed and went again. “What’s Blue and smells like paint? Blue paint” Richie joked, and Georgie giggled again a large smiling dancing on his face. “Didn’t know you were a fan of the bad joke section of my joke repertoire Georgie! I’ll be sure to remember that!” Richie smiled lightly and rubbed the younger boy’s hair.

They fell into a comfortable silence, until Georgie tugged on Richie’s T-Shirt. He looked down at the boy who smiled sheepishly at him. “Thank you” He mumbled, and Richie’s questioning look softened and hugged him closer, leaning against the murky concrete walls of their prison. Richie knew that It was still watching him, he felt It’s eyes on them ever since that Bill copy-cat had faded out of existence and he had a feeling that this wouldn’t be the last they’ll be seeing him. His eyes were focused on the darkness around them, head snapping in the direction of any faint noises and his hand lay protectively on the back of a now sleeping Georgie Denbrough. He ignored the way his stomach growled with hunger, or how his throat burned for water and focused on the tasks at hand. Getting out of here and keeping Georgie safe.


	16. Chapter 16

Stan sighed sadly, lying on the grassy ground of the Barrens, the other losers were huddled close beside him, bickering about what to do and how to do it. He tugged at the grass and started to make tiny little flower bracelets, something he did whenever he was anxious about anything. He’s eyes shot upwards as the song of a blue jay rang out against the murmuring chatter of his friends, he gazed longingly after it, wishing he could be like the bird, at least he’d be free of all this horror. After It’s attack in the house on Neibolt Street the other losers had begun to plan their hostile takeover of It’s territory. Bill was headstrong about all of this, much to Stan’s dismay and no amount of warning could push him away from that hell hole. As much as Stan hoped that Richie and Georgie were alive, it was growing increasingly likely that they were either dead or very close to it. “So, its decided, Stan and Beverly will get hairspray and a lighter for a flamethrower, Mike will bring his grandfather’s bolt gun and Ben his BB gun. Bill and I will bring as many flashlights as possible.” Eddie explained, and the others nodded. Stan sat up and started to speak when their conversation was interrupted. 

“Well, well, well what have we here?” Henry Bowers chided, strutting towards the losers, an evil grin on his face. His entire gang loomed around him, though Patrick Hockstetter was defiantly the scariest of the lot of them. Richie had told them things that Patrick would whisper to him down the hallways at school, disgusting things that would make them all both shake with rage and gag in disgust. “Nothing” Stan muttered and scuttled away from them and closer towards the others, ignoring the way they laughed at his timid response. They looked around the group and looked somewhat disappointed. “Trashmouth’s still out of action huh? Maybe Patrick finally got his claws into him” Henry chuckled nervously, even he wasn’t a huge fan of the psychotic teen, who hit on everyone regardless of age or gender and may or may not end up in a juvie hall in the foreseeable future. But, the way Henry saw it, he was safer being friends with the Hockstetter boy than being enemies with him. “Yeah, he wishes, he’d still be alive if I found him, just sucking my dick!” Patrick chortled and for some reason that was the straw that broke the camel’s back. 

Eddie jumped to life and charged at the older boy. “Fuck you!!” He screamed before tackling Hockstetter sending him flying to the floor in a wheezing pile of limbs. The other losers sprang up, raising their fists up to fight Belch Huggins and Henry Bowers who were charging towards them at an alarming rate. Vic Criss hung back eyeing each loser and trying to find the weakest one to pick off, like a lion would stalk a bunch of gazelles. “Fuck you! Fuck you! Go rot in hell” Eddie roared, punching the teenager in the face until he heard a sickening crunch. He broke Patrick’s nose. “Oh fu-fu-fu-fuck!” Bill cried, everyone freezing to stare at the two boys on the floor. Everything went quiet as Eddie rolled off the older boy and ran to stand beside his friends. The bower’s gang moved towards the loser’s club, not in a threatening way but more so to protect themselves from the oncoming rage that was emanating from the mentally unstable teenager. Patrick raised a shaking hand to his nose and gingerly touched around the offending area. When he pulled his hand back, his eyes grew to the size of saucers. They were covered in blood. “You’re dead Kaspbrak” He muttered, shaking with silent rage. Eddie took a fearful step back and gulped.

Despite everything that had happened between the Bowers gang and the Loser’s club, even they knew it was cruel to leave them to a fate worse than death with Patrick Hockstetter. They were his friends, they wouldn’t hurt them too badly. “You get a free ride on this one losers, but after this it’s back to normal.” Henry hissed as Belch and Vic stood in front of them creating a barrier around them. They nodded shakily and tore through the trees that surrounded them, tripping over branches and swirling roots and bashing into thick shrubbery and thorn bushes. They could hear Patrick screaming from behind them promising swift and brutal revenge on all of them though more specifically on Eddie. The small boy ran through the undergrowth almost as fast as he ran from IT yesterday, his face as white as a sheet and he was shaking with anxiety, his mind rattling off so many thoughts per minute that it was hard to focus on one of them. The sounds of Patrick and Henry roaring at each other echoed around the wood, causing all of them to shudder when Henry was suddenly cut off. They continued their rush through the forest, ignoring the slaps of the bamboo against their skin as they trampled on brambles and flowers alike, forcing their way to some form of safety.

They finally reached an outcropping of brambles and each one of them pushed their way through them to arrive at a small desolate area, hidden behind the flora of the forest. They lay down on their stomachs and waited, their breaths coming in shallow heaves and they shared fearful looks. They hushed each other quickly when they heard booming footsteps and the muffled sound of curses from the gang of Derry’s most despicable assholes. “Where the fuck did they go?! You’re such a fucking ass wipe Bowers, I could’ve beaten that little girly boy’s face in if it weren’t for you!” Patrick yelled and raised a fist at the other boy, who winced in return. From what the other losers could see, it was blatantly obvious that the bowers gang had received a lashing of their own as they nursed their impressive busted lips and developing bruises. One of Henry’s eyes was going to be black by this time tomorrow, the entire area was swollen and already gaining the faint markings of blueish black hues. “You know Henry, sometimes I think I should do to you what your old man has always been too much a pussy to do” Patrick glowered, his hand making his way into his pocket and fumbling with the blade that lay hidden there. Vic and Belch growled and step forward, flanking their friend at both sides as the teen drew a switchblade from his pocket, waving it teasingly at them. Mike looked around hurriedly before finding a large stone and tossing it in the opposite direction to them, creating a symphony of crashes and cracking as it soared through a nearby thicket. Patrick turned and charged towards the sound, ignoring the gang behind them and dashing at his assumed prey. Vic and Belch followed, making sure not to upset the older boy again while Patrick looked back at the bush where the losers were hiding in, nodding appreciatively, before following the others into the woods. 

The losers emerged from their hidey hole, covered head to toe in dirt and twigs. They looked at each other for a few moments, allowing their bodies to adjust to the amount of adrenaline it had just been pumped with before Stan suddenly burst in to a fit of hysterical laughter. Ben followed shortly after, fat tears rolling down his face as he grasped his stomach. Soon all of them were gigging giddily, relief coursing through their veins. They all patted Eddie on the back appreciatively, complementing him on the amount of balls he had grown. They smiled at each other and then set of towards home, where they would sleep before finally heading off into the belly of the beast. No one seemed to even regard the pair of golden eyes that watched them from the undergrowth, no one seemed to care how the creature’s face was frozen in a fearsome scowl.


	17. Chapter 17

Beverly trudged down the sidewalk, ignoring the disgusted looks other girls threw her way as they looked at her muddy and torn attire. She pretended not to hear the passing comments and the high-pitched giggles as she crossed the street and headed towards home. ‘Maybe for the last time’ her mind supplied darkly but she shook her head. They’d be fine, everything would work out okay in the end. She hoped it would anyway. She walked with her head held high through the roughest part of town, nodding wearily at any passers-by’s and avoiding eye contact with the ones that had that dangerous glint in their eyes. Whenever Richie would walk her home, he’d always grasp her hand whenever he saw those people. ‘You can never tell what they’re up to Bev’ he had explained, his voice laced with warning. She smiled softly at the memory, reliving it as if it had only just happened yesterday. But it hadn’t happened yesterday, it had happened over a week ago and perhaps it would never happen again. Her breath hitched at that thought but she powered on, ignoring the rowdy teenagers who were throwing bottles into the river and ignoring the way her heart dropped as she climbed the steps up to her apartment.

Her father wasn’t home, leaving her free to eat in peace as she gathered supplies and money for the tomorrows journey. She collected all her equipment, Band-Aids, lighters (stolen from her Dads room), hairspray (so they had a backup torch if they’re flashlights died) and a small, loaf of bread, it wouldn’t be missed in this house. She bundled them all up and shoved them into a nearby rucksack, slinging it over her shoulder and trotting off to her room. She stashed a few more items in the bag, a few spare batteries (from her old Walkman, gifted to her by Ben) and a small blanket. She leaned back against her bed and eyed her haul with tired eyes. Soon all of this would be behind them, either because the clown had died, or they had. Beverly was never one to contemplate her own mortality, partially because she was still a child and didn’t really have time to and because thinking to long about the subject would send her hurtling into a sea of crashing emotions that would take her a week to emerge from. Yet here she sat, death’s fingertips ghosting her throat and she still couldn’t focus on the thought of her own death without bursting into tears. She supposed this was normal, if she was okay with dying at her age it would be troublesome. No, it was the fact that she couldn’t except the unacceptable that worried her, the fact that she couldn’t accept the inevitability death.

She never experienced death before, not in a relatable way. She never lost a pet, a friend, a family member. The closest thing she lost to her was a mother that she never met and therefore never cared for her. She guessed that loosing Richie and Georgie was close enough to death, most adults already acted like they were. Bill’s parents were planning a funeral for fuck sake, and Richie’s folks couldn’t give a rat’s ass where he was. Beverly felt a swell of emotions just then as she thought, what if they really were dead, gone forever. Her hands rushed to cover a gasp as she pictured them walking through whatever hell hole that well lead to only to discover the tattered corpses of their friends. She whimpered, and curled tighter around herself, ignoring the way her muscles protested, still sore from the events of the past few days. Though in her heart, deep within her soul something nudged her, something told her to ignore all logic and look towards hope. Her friends were still alive. Beverly held her head in her hands, feeling the inklings of a headache beginning to creep up on her. She needed to relax, she needed a bath. 

Beverly slipped into the hot water, relaxing and sighing with relief as the soapy liquid washed away all the tension and grime of the day off her. She stared up at the peeling ceiling, ignoring the faint stains of blood that still clung there stubbornly. She had asked the other losers to help her in cleaning up the bathroom shortly after Richie and Georgie had disappeared and of course they had agreed, it had been uneventful save for the lack of constant chatter between them all. They were still in shock that this was even real in the first place. She glared at the stains, angered by what they showed her, angered by what they meant. These stains were proof to her that this wouldn’t ever go away, she would be stuck with this forever, stuck with this creature controlling her mind and dreams like she was a marionette and it was the puppet master. It had them all in it’s web and she was furious about the unfairness of it all. It wasn’t like they deserved this pain, this maltreatment, they all were good people and they all tried their best despite their circumstances. They got by and did what every other child did and yet here they were planning on heading down a dank, grimy well in the basement of a decrepit house to save their two friends from a psychotic, evil clown. 

She would’ve loved to play pretend like the rest of this town, who seemed to ignore the blatant paranormal activity in their area like they were under some sort of spell. Even the children, the ones must vulnerable to it all, played dumb, ignorant to their own creeping demise, like a cow before the slaughter. She shuddered and squeezed her eyes shut. Just for one night, she longed to forget. To move on and forget there was ever a killer clown, forget she had a sadistic father, forget that she was the schools alleged slut, forget that Derry even existed. That, however, would mean saying goodbye to all her friends, her loser’s club, and for some reason that was enough for her. They were enough for her to live through the struggles of her thankless life day in and day out. All of them, Ben, Richie, Eddie, Stanley, Bill, Mike and even little Georgie Denbrough, they were all worth dying for. Beverly sighed once again, this time somewhat contentedly, like she had finally figured out the answer to the many questions that boggled around her mind. She sat up, rinsed her hair, removed the stopper and watched as the water swirled down the stained drain. She smiled, her body lighter, her mind free and then headed off to bed, ready for the day that would follow.


	18. Chapter 18

Stan wasn’t usually like this, he wasn’t usually this jumpy, this agitated. This scared. Everything seemed to be crashing around him. The world that he assumed was normal was destroyed by the creature that stood in the kitchen of the house on Neibolt Street, his outlook on life shattered by the lady with the porcelain hands and warped face. His sense of justice, of all things fair in the world were manhandled by the disappearance of the two nicest kids he knew. He shuddered at the thought of them now. Before it seemed likely that Richie had taken the younger boy off somewhere, not in a malicious way more so in a fun but careless way. Richie was never one for ‘Relax we’re all safe phone calls’ as Stan was all to familiar with and before a few days ago he had gone along happily ignoring the supernatural events he and his friends went through and decide to blame their disappearances on Richie, not because he hated Richie but because the child was quite clumsy and sometimes, despite being incredibly intelligent at even his worst moments, had times where he was a little bit absentminded. Now though, Stan had to look at the truth and learn to that it was exactly that, the truth. His friends had been taken by a murderous, monstrous clown and they had to go save them.

It wasn’t like Stan was coward. He was going into that house, down that disgusting, moss-covered well and he was going to save those two no matter what, but he was frightened, terrified even of the implications of this entire event. This meant that not everything was black and white, the world wasn’t yes and no and easy answers to hard questions. Stan no longer felt like the excuse ‘God did it’ was going to apply to life anymore, up was no longer up in this new world and down was no longer down. He felt like he was spiraling out of control, like that Goldfinch he saw on the birdbath at Memorial Park that couldn’t fly away no matter how hard it tried. He was that bird, flailing miserably against the immobilizing fear that he saw before him. The staggering, strangling emotion seemed to slice through him, like he had been shoved into ice cold water and life was laughing at him as he struggled to stay afloat and alive before he would inevitably perish. Today he was reeling with these new discovers, and the world wasn’t waiting for him to catch his breath. The world was continuing without him.

At times like these Stan would think of his birds, he’d list them off, starting with the A’s and then moving onto the B’s. He’d continue doing this until his breathing relaxed or his heart stopped clogging up his throat and then would continue as if nothing happened, ignoring that fact that just a second ago, his life was falling all around him. Other times he turned to Richie, him being one of his best friends and somehow, despite his trashmouth personality, the most logical of the group, well besides Mike but sometimes Mike wasn’t always around and sometimes Stan enjoyed the moments they shared together watching birds on Mike’s farm so much that he didn’t want to spoil the mood talking about his hardships. Richie had this air of calm around him, no matter what was going on in his life. Even when he had been explaining his abusive home life to him, he still held that atmosphere of easiness around, albeit slightly cracked, but still pleasant. Perhaps that’s why he was so approachable, Stan had no idea, all he knew was that he liked talking to the loud-mouthed boy, especially when they talked about stuff that was troubling them. Stan would feel like he at least had some control over those moments in his life when he talked to Richie about them. Now though, listing out bird names was no help and Richie wasn’t around, so his problems and his manifestations of fear were left to hold on to him like a leash and never let go.

Stan really wanted everything to back to normal, but somewhere deep inside him he knew that things would never be the same again. A part of him died that day when he saw the creature on Neibolt street, just like a part of him died when he saw the twisted women from the painting. Even after all this blows over he knows that things won’t go back to normal, he’ll never be that young boy who thought that the scariest thing he’d ever face was the wrath of a furious Henry Bowers. He wouldn’t ever get to go back to a time where he could walk home alone as slowly as he wanted, not caring about the time of day and not caring to look around him for attackers. He would never get back that comfort of feeling safe in his own home, safe in his own town. He’d never feel safe again. The steering wheel of the car that he drove through life had spiraled out of his control and he was swerving, bonnet first, into the deepest and darkest ditch known to man.

He however felt that this was in some way, his destiny. He felt like this was his fate, his sacred path that he must walk through life. That thought unsettled him the most. The thought that all of this, from the day he was born, from the day he uttered his first words and the day he took his first steps, all of this was meant for him, his name had been carved into the creatures hit list since day one and it wouldn’t leave until either it was gone, or he was dead.

Stan shuddered, perhaps this was the reason he even had friends in the first place, perhaps this was the reason they were all friends and always together. Maybe this was their purpose all along, to kill this creature of the night, to destroy everything it had built up in this little town and grant justice to the lives it had already taken. Stan suddenly felt happier, as if a stone had been lifted from his stomach. Before, when he thought these things to himself, he’d usually be alone, it would usually be Stan against this monster that lived in a well but now he knows he’s not alone. He has Bill, Eddie, Mike, Beverly, Ben and somehow, he knows he has Richie and Georgie. He knows that wherever they are, they were most certainly doing everything they can to face up against that demon from their worst nightmare. Stan decide that enough was enough and that he should probably start trying to think about something else to get his mind of the clown before he attempted to sleep but Stan was a creature of habit and he continued to do so until his head hit the pillow that night and he fell into the first dreamless sleep he had in weeks.


	19. Chapter 19

Mike Halon knew what it felt like to be this lost and confused. He’d felt it the first time he heard a racist slur, the first time he got punched by bullies for seemingly no reason and he felt it when his parents had died in front of him. Now it was back again and stronger than ever, now Mike knew what this conclusion would be, Richie and Georgie were going to die. That’s how things always worked out in his life. Whenever he was confused or scared about something happening to him, that thing always turned out to have a largely negative effect on his life. Mike struggled to find a positive spin, he tried so hard to make himself believe that everything would turn out alright, but he knew it wouldn’t. He’d lived through all of this before so many times that he knew every detail to the events that would transpire. 

This time however, things were a little different, much to Mike’s relief. This time there was a crazy clown involved, this time he had no adult help and this time he knew where the attacks, the misfortune, was coming from. He never had answers to so many questions when he felt this way and now that he did he felt like he didn’t need them. Yet still, now that the story was different, Mike hoped that maybe the ending would change too. Maybe they’d find Richie and Georgie, maybe they’d all go home and go play at the Quarry or the Barrens, maybe they’ll be able to laugh and smile again without thinking about this clown. Mike, however hopeful he may be, knew that he still had to be realistic despite the supernatural and otherworldly events happening around him. Maybe they would find Georgie and Richie, but things would never be the same. The two would most defiantly be traumatized beyond all sense of reason, maybe to the point of being admitted to a crazy house, never to be seen again. Plus, the whole town would be rattling off questions to the poor boys and how they had randomly risen from the dead. Things were never going to get any easier from here on in.

Mike liked to think of himself as a somewhat positive person. Life had handed him a tainted deck of cards and, yet he still played them. He knew the outcomes might be disastrous but there was always that faint chance that everything would be okay. He was optimistic despite his circumstances and he’d like to remain that person who said, ‘That’s Life’ whenever the world decided to screw him over. He lived with life and life lived with him, like roommates in a house that kept messing with each other. Mike also hoped that life would throw him a bone this one time, it hadn’t done so before in his life, but he hoped this time would be different. This time it wasn’t human impact that was hurting him, this time it was a psychotic clown that was defiantly not of this world. 

Mike wanted to believe that they find the justice they desired, he desperately wanted his friends to be safe and for all of them to beat the shit out of the fucker that hurt them, but he was just so scared. He’d never had justice before, he never had justice over the people that would yell racial slurs and derogatory names at him, he never had justice for all the times Henry Bower’s gang had beaten him to a pulp and he never had justice for those madmen that had killed his parents in a house fire all those years ago. This time though, Mike demanded justice. He was grabbing life by the reigns and forcing it to obey his commands, he was forcing life to throw him a bone. 

Now, as Mike stood, the exact spot where he’d seen the creature in his barn at his farmhouse, his fists clenched in determination, his mind on fire with positive possibilities, he viewed a world of hope. He watched as the world around him tried to prove that even the seemingly impossible things were still possible. He saw the runt of the litter of pigs become a prized animal and the star of the family when it would usual be considered the most useless, he saw a baby bird that had fallen to the ground, pick himself up and fly, albeit slightly crookedly, off into the fading sun. He noticed the way their family dog, Mr. Chips, had outlived all life expectancy numbers and was living longer than any dog in Derry ever had and most importantly he noticed a fly, wiggle himself free from a spider’s web. If even these simple creatures could escape their seemingly doomed circumstances than surely, he could too. 

He grasped the cool metal of the Bolt gun, feeling the weight of the weapon mirror the weight on his shoulders. There were only two bolts left with the gun, two chances before life pulled him away from the reigns and changed the tide, ruling over him once again, two shots before everything would fall back into normality and his existence would be no more. Two bolts that would decided the fate of his and his group of friend’s futures. Mike gulped, stoic with the news this thought had brought him but shook his head. He needed to remain sharp and focused, for his friends. He nimbly tucked the gun into his backpack, covering it with other contents and then made his way towards his home. Before he entered he turned and looked one more time at the aging barn. He recalled the night he first encountered the creature from Neibolt street but this time he didn’t feel paralyzing fear. This time he felt like he had a fire in his heart, one that fear couldn’t control and one that would finally let him control the way the scene played out. He nodded at the barn the way you’d nod at an old friend in passing and then went to bed. Tomorrow would be the day that Mike broke the cycle that life had gifted him, and he wanted to be ready for it.


	20. Chapter 20

Ben usually found that reading was a great escape away from the world life had mad for you. When he was younger, shortly after his father had passed away, he realized that the worlds of the books around him made for a friend when you didn’t want to be alone with your rambling and somewhat destructive thoughts. Ever since he learned this, he’d always turned to books, he read 'Bridge To Terabithia' when his mother started working late for the first time, he turned to 'The BFG' when kids started teasing him about his weight for the first time and he became friends with the characters of 'Goodnight Mister Tom' when he first moved to Derry and Henry Bowers had vowed to punch him in the face next time he saw him. 

Nowadays however, he finds himself turning to those faded pages less and less as he turns to his friends instead. He never really understood how it felt to have friends until he met the loser’s club and now he understands why friends were such an integral part of ever novel his ever read. His friends had encouraged him to change his clothes and he had gone from wearing those baggy sweaters that covered his weight, to his favorite T-Shirts without any negative comments from them whatsoever. They helped him come to terms with his father, Mike and Eddie especially and now he feels like he’s finally ready to accept that it happened in the first place. They rescued him on numerous occasions from Henry Bower’s and his cronies and he found himself doing so to, especially Beverly, not because she was a girl but because he felt different about her. He thinks he loves her. 

The only way Ben knew that love existed was learning from his novels. He learned everything from his novels, what true love felt like, pure happiness and gut-wrenching fear, the latter of which only becoming real to him for the first time this summer. He thought he’d experienced the bone chilling sensation with Henry Bowers and he didn’t think it would ever get any worse than that, evidently, he’d been mistaken, and the books had the way he felt that day at the house on Neibolt Street and the night with the headless boy down to a tea. Everything he read about feeling was real, he felt the sweat on his palms and back, he felt the drying mouth and quivering legs. He’d lived through the feeling of his heart hammering on his chest and jumping to his throat and he lived through the shortness of breath and how every gulp of oxygen seemed to carve its way down his throat. He’d dealt with the wide eyes and the gathering tears and the moment where everything gets so cold that you freeze to a stop.

If Ben were younger and less experienced with life he’d have wondered if all authors had dealt with this psychotic clown before, maybe it was an indication right, but Ben knew this was a preposterous idea. The only fear they’d been exposed to would be the fear they felt for the characters of a horror flick as they watched them on the big screen or the fear they felt when the told ghost stories at a scout camp. This fear was all too real, and Ben was living with it right now. This fear felt like it hadn’t been truly experienced before and Ben wanted to write a whole novel on it just to show the world what true, unnerving fear felt like. How it seeped into your body like a poisonous gas and swam through your blood stream, icing you to your core. Ben shuddered at the thought of the creature, a chill dancing up his spine. This creature lived on this feeling, this fear. It devoured the way he crumbled like a paper cub under its gaze and it reveled in the way he ran from it. This creature enjoyed the hunt almost as much as he enjoyed the kill, perhaps more so. 

Ben was struck with a sudden urge to protect. He wanted to protect all those around him from this feeling of paralyzing fear. He wanted to ensure that they’d never feel it again. He wanted to take them all away and move somewhere else, so they’d never had to experience the feeling they felt on Neibolt Street ever again, but he knew that wasn’t realistic. He too wanted to save his friends, even if they’d be killed in the process because he was one of them now and no matter what he wasn’t leaving them behind. Still, Ben made a secret promise to himself, that he’d still protect them, he’d distract the creature, he’d draw him out, anything to get the attention off his friends. That’s what the heroes always did in his books but he wasn’t doing this to be heroic, he was doing this out of pure adoration for the people that spent so much time making him feel loved.   
Now Ben felt like he could face anything, especially with the knowledge that he had made an oath to protect those around him. He felt fearless, like he was standing at the edge of a cliff and wasn’t afraid that he might fall off the edge. He felt like he was walking on air as he grasped his BB gun in his hands and rattled the box of bullets, he estimated that he had around eight bullets, one for everyone. He wore a stoic expression, one that heroes wore before the went into battle, as he stored the weapon in his backpack, the muzzle pocking out the top like a guard dog and for the first time since the incidents occurred he looked out his window into the darkness streets of Derry. He was alone in his house, but he wasn’t scared, he couldn’t see some of the streets, but he didn’t care to study them for any hidden figures of the night. He stood there like a king overlooking his kingdom and smiled fondly. Tomorrow he would face the embodiment of fear itself and he would kill it.


	21. Chapter 21

Bill sat on the bed of his younger brother Georgie’s musty old room, his fingers fumbling with the teddy that Georgie would always hug close when thunderstorms got to loud or night became to terrifying to cope. Bill smiled lightly as he remembered those late April nights where the wind would be howling like a hungry animal and the rain would be pelting the windows like small bullets. Lightening would paint the sky an eerie yellow hue and thunder would follow shortly after, its voice bellowing out into the stormy night and that’s when Georgie would show up at the foot of his bed, teddy clutched between his shaking hands as he asked in the quietest voice Bill had ever heard ‘Can I sleep in your bed tonight? I’m scared.’. 

Bill sighed as he gently tucked the beloved plush back into Georgie’s bed and looked around the room. He had managed to prevent his parents from removing any of Georgie’s possessions but as time trickled onward, he knew that soon, one by one things would begin to disappear. First to go would defiantly be the toys, maybe even that teddy. There were so symbolic of the boy that holding on to them any longer would only cause further grief. They had to be the first to go. Next would be his books, his drawings anything that Georgie had left his mark on. One by one he can picture them stacked outside the house or in a trashcan left to be forgotten by everyone, everyone expects the people it affected. Bill guessed the bed sheets and the wallpaper would follow and then the door would be locked, key thrown away and his parents would begin to pretend like Georgie wasn’t even alive in the first place. 

Bill shuddered, all this becoming too real for him to handle. His shaking hands reached for Georgie’s photo album, something all the losers had helped him put together. Stan and Mike had taken most of the pictures, Ben and Richie had printed them and Bill, Eddie and Beverly had all helped him design it. It had been a day the group of them never forget. He gently flipped through the pages, smiling fondly at the ones containing all of them, pausing briefly at any that caught his interest. He’s eyes landed on Georgie’s latest school picture, his younger brother smiling brightly back at him and his smile dropped slightly, what if this was Georgie’s last ever picture that was to be taken by his school? A shiver danced up his spine as he a bone chilling thought came to his mind. What would he do if the picture just suddenly came to life and started talking to him, or waving at him? Bill closed the book with that thought and placed it back on Georgie’s self, so he could find it easily if he returned, no, when he returned.

Bill returned to his seat at the foot of the bed and stared around the room stoically, he knew what was going to happen tomorrow and while he was in no means looking forward to heading down that dark, dingy well he knew he’d do anything for his brother and for Richie. Bill’s heart ached as he thought of the other boy, down with one of his greatest fears whilst also dealing with a undoubtedly terrified Georgie. Richie had told Bill one day, during a 4th of July parade that he was deathly afraid of clowns, couldn’t even stand being on the same street as one and now to think that he was alone in a sewer with the creature was defiantly one of the greatest forms of torture Bill could ever think of. He wished they had finished at that ice cream shop sooner although he’d never voice this out loud. Mike already blamed himself enough as it is for the disappearance of their friends since he was the one who suggested going out in the first place and he didn’t want to add to that. Richie and Georgie’s kidnapping hadn’t been anybody’s faults, they all agreed on that.

At least Bill knew where he stood in that deliberated house on Neibolt street, at least he knew that in there it was just him versus that monster that took Richie and Georgie and that the only two outcomes were that it lives, or it dies. He found himself chuckling sadly to himself as he realized that the demonic house was easier to walk into then his own, at least he knew what was expected of him there. Even here in Georgie’s room, his haven as of late, everything seemed too blurry. The lines between reality and fiction blurred so heavily in his own home that is was hard not to just leave the place altogether. His parents spent their days walking like zombies through their own house, ignoring anything that would have once brought their youngest son joy. The colorful cereals that had once been purchased for the two brothers had now been replaced with plain, bran cereals and all the cookies that the boys loved had never been purchased again. His father would either be in the kitchen, staring dumbly out the window, his eyes filled with so much sadness that Bill sometimes struggled to look at him or in the garage, idly making any bits of furniture that he could to keep his mind of his youngest son. His mother was the worst, she could always be found sitting in the rocking chair by the front door, Bill sometimes guessed that in her mind, she was waiting for Georgie to come home. She would sit there after breakfast and rock in silence, sometimes reading, sometimes knitting but mostly staring off into the void, much like Bill’s father. The only times she got up were if someone knocked on the door or dinner was called. After dinner she would promptly go to bed, so the cycle could renew itself the next morning. Bill noticed that his mother shared that same sad expression as his father but it’s the eyes that made her unbearable to look at without the older boy feeling such pangs of grief that he’d be stunned into silent sobs. Her eyes were vacant, like nobody lived behind them, she looked lost, frail behind those bright blue orbs and Bill could tell that she wasn’t there anymore. The day that Bill lost Georgie was the day he lost his parents. 

That’s another reason why Georgie had to come home safe, so everything could return to normal. He needed everything to return to normal so that he could forget all this ever happened in the first place. Yet, Bill guessed that after this nothing would ever be normal again, he’d never be able to let Georgie, or Richie for that matter out of his sight ever again. He’d never be able to look at a clown again without picturing the demon that mimicked one sawing above him. He drew in a shuddering breath as he thought about how everything would be different, he might even lose some of those he calls his friends tomorrow, he might lose Georgie and Richie, Stan and Eddie, Beverly, Mike and Ben. Worse still, he might not lose his brother and his friend but lose everything that made them his friends in the first place. What if Georgie was too traumatized to ever leave his room again, what if Richie was too traumatized to speak again. Nothing would ever be the same. Bill broke down in to huge gasping sobs as he clutched Georgie’s teddy close to his chest, his soul mourning the loss of Richie Tozier and Georgie Denbrough who he may not have lost physically, but mentally.


	22. Chapter 22

Georgie jumped to attention, his little fingers grasping tightly on the front of Richie’s T-Shirt. He blinked rapidly, a trick Richie had thought him shortly after they had arrived in the sewer that would stop his eyes from straining due to the loss of light and prepared himself for an oncoming attack as his eyes adjusted to the darkness. When nothing came he sighed thankfully, and gently shook the older boy awake. “Richie? Wake up.” He whispered, and Richie sprang to life, eyes darting around in panic until they finally landed on Georgie, he sighed with relief. “Its not here yet?” He questions, looking behind him warily, smiling slightly when they boy shook his head in response. “Well then guvnor, I guess its just the two of us my good lad!” Richie sounded of in a terrible British accent making Georgie giggle slightly in response. The two of them had gone through a lot of downright terrifying shit these past few days, Georgie more so than Richie, who simply got fear from the clown even being there in the first place. Richie notes sadly that their morning routine- if it even was mourning that this- had warped into them quietly passing the time with as much joy as possible before the clown showed up and ruined the rest of their day. “What did one wall say to another? I’ll meet you at the corner!” Richie chuckled, and Georgie roared with laughter slapping his hands on his knees for added affect. Richie guessed that this joke wouldn’t have been that funny if they hadn’t been trapped in this dingy sewer drain and realized anxiously that he was slowly running out of jokes to tell the smaller boy.

A low cough rang out from the surrounding darkness and both boys flinched. Richie instinctively tugged Georgie closer and then whispered the familiar phase. “Stay behind me Georgie” Richie mumbled, and they landed in their positions, Richie standing in front of him and Georgie poking his head out from behind him. A man stepped out of the darkness and Richie’s heart dropped, it was his father. “Fucking hell” Richie glowered, and Georgie huddled closer, somehow this man was just as scary as Pennywise, maybe even scarier than him, because Georgie knew that this man was real, and a dark energy seemed to emanate from him. “Really you psychotic fuck?! My fucking Dad? Really?!” Richie growled, his fist shaking with rage and hidden fear. The man swayed closer, and Georgie curled his nose up in disgust. A disgusting odor hung around this man and Georgie couldn’t help but feel hatred for him, though he wouldn’t realize why until Bill explained the situation to him when he was older. “Richie, you pathetic fuck” He slurred, and Richie flinched violently, shaking harder than ever. The man took a shuddering step forward and Richie shuffled backwards. “You fucking fag, stop moving” his father growled, and Richie stopped, eye’s like a deer caught in headlights. His brain was wired to do everything this man commanded, even if this creature wasn’t his real father. “Richie?! What are you doing?!” Georgie cried, tugging the hem of Richie’s T-Shirt, but the boy remained frozen, his heart hammering in his chest and his hands clamming up with sweat. Richie pushed Georgie back gently and remained glued to the floor, eyes on the man who was now barely inches away. He loomed over Richie and smirked at the fear in his eyes. “Always were a coward Richie, you always were a good for nothing coward” He spat, and Richie swallowed, his eyes widening like saucers. “That’s why people don’t care about you Rich, they know what your breed are like. You’re loudmouthed, trash mouthed, cowardly and what’s even better is they know that you’re going to end up just like me, and you know it too” His Dad chuckled darkly, and Richie sobbed, tears welling up behind his coke bottle glasses and trailing down his face. “You’re unlovable Richie” He stated, and Richie wailed.

Georgie’s heart shattered as he gasped. This man, Richie’s own father, told his own son these things and smiled as he cried in front of him. He couldn’t believe what he was seeing, Richie was none of those things, Richie was fantastic, Bill had told him so. Richie’s father grinned and then raised his fist, moving to hit his own son and Richie simply flinched, not even moving out of the way of the oncoming attack, like he knew it was pointless to do so. “NO!” Georgie screamed, charging forward and knocking Richie to the floor and pushing the two of them out of the way of the now cackling man. He launched himself towards him and they both screamed, kicking their feet out to hit him in the chest sending him spiraling to the sewer floor. The creature wheezed slightly, morphing back into the clown that terrorized the two children. “You’re a coward Richie Tozier!! You’re a good for nothing little coward!!” Pennywise chanted dancing towards them joyfully. “Stop it for the love of god please shut the fuck up!!!” Richie cried out, covering his ears to block out the words being thrown at him. Georgie started at him in shock, Richie had never acted this way before, Richie had never been this scared before. “He’ll never love you Richie, he’ll never love you! Not in a million years!” The clown jeered, and Richie let out an ear-piercing scream, fists balling around tufts of his black hair, tugging at them. Georgie squeezed him tightly in alarm and tried to whisper nice things to him, to distract him but nothing seemed to be working. “Beep Beep Richie” The clown teased before slinking off into the darkness, it’s deed done for the night. 

Georgie had tried everything he could think of to get Richie to stop crying and rocking himself back and forth. He had guided the unresponsive boy back to their corner and had tried everything Richie would do to him when he had these Panic Attacks, that’s what Richie had called them anyway and Georgie believed him because he knew that Richie was incredibly smart. He tried telling bad jokes, tried getting him to look him in the eyes and he gave the boy small gestures of affection, like head pats and squeezing hugs. Nothing seemed to work. Then, seemingly out of nowhere, Georgie had a plan, a light bulb moment. He snuggled close to Richie and cleared his throat. “Bill always used to talk to me about you before we got taken here” He began, looking up at the older boy, who’s convulsions had died down a slight bit but not by much. “He was always talking about how smart you were and how much he cares about you. He thinks you’re really cool Richie!” Georgie beamed up at the other boy and was elated to find him looking down at him, he had stopped shaking. “Stan also thinks you’re really funny, but he told me not to tell you ‘cause it’d only had to your ego, whatever that means. Mike thinks that you’re one the greatest guys he’s ever met, and Beverly always calls you her brother!! Ben says you the nicest member of the losers club, he says your always so reliable and make him feel better on really bad days.” Georgie gushed and slowly Richie’s hand moved to encase the boy in a light hug, which Georgie snuggled into appreciatively. “W-What about Eddie” Richie croaked timidly, sounding so much like Bill it almost caused Georgie to cry. “Eddie’s weird around you, his face is always red whenever you say nice things about him or hug him. He always looks at you the same way Ben looks at Beverly” Georgie groaned, his face turning into a grimace like all small children did when they thought of falling in love. Richie’s breath caught in his throat and he pulled Georgie closer, fresh tears trailing down his face. “What’s wrong?! Did I say something wrong!?” Georgie squawked, hugging Richie tighter but the other boy simply smiled shaking his head. “Nah Georgie Porgie I just hope your right.” He smiled and settled down for night, bringing the other boy down with him. “Thanks Georgie” He sighed sleepily. “Anytime Richie” Georgie smiled, wrapping his arms protectively around the older boy.


	23. Chapter 23

Patrick stumbled out from the jungle of vines that was the Barrens, the rest of his gang long lost in the thick shrubbery of the area. “Good riddance” Patrick scoffed, spitting on the ground as he trudged parallel along the trickling streams beside him. The wildlife chirped delightful around him, unaware of the passing predator, as birds swooped down to nearby branches and wild hares bounced effortlessly around the gnarled roots of an ancient tree. Patrick licked his lips, a disturbing and off-putting habit that he had developed some time ago when he was growing up and it hadn’t left him since. He eyed his surroundings, looking for any possible hideaway the small group of kids, the losers club as they so aptly called themselves, had burrowed themselves in. He smirked as his eyes fell on an open sewer tunnel, a perfect place for young stowaways, with its twisting tunnels and sudden dead ends. It was a perfect place for them to get lost and for Patrick to find them.

He charged forward, revenge on his mind. That kid, the one that looked like a girl, had broken his nose and then managed to escape him. He was going to suffer for that and Patrick had already devised his torture plan. Many adults and children alike had told Hockstetter that he was a disturbed and psychotic young man and told him that he needed help, otherwise his life would head down a dark and sadistic path. Patrick had liked the thought of that, liked the thought of having so much power in his young hands. He liked that he held power over his parents, his school friends and practically the whole of Derry because everyone was afraid of him. No one wanted to be his enemy when he eventually bought a gun and started shooting places up, they all knew Patrick Hockstetter had a Hit List and they all knew that every day a name was added to it like it was some sort of religious passage to do so. Patrick had already listed down Richie Tozier, a young boy who hung around with the Losers club, for making a mockery of him when he suggested something crude to the young boy, something he presumed would be right up the alley for such a trash mouthed little kid. But the kid had spunk and a bite to his bark and Patrick was furious when Richie had kicked him in the balls in front of the entirety of his grade. Although no one dreamed of laughing at him, he knew that they all were in private, that they all talked about for weeks after it happened. Richie needed to be punished and Patrick was frankly disappointed that it was taking this long to do so.

He made his way through the open mouth of the monster drain and fished a lighter out of his pocket, it provided a prick of light to the otherwise pitch blackness around him. “Come on out twerps, I won’t hurt you!” He crooned, chuckling darkly to himself as his free hand fumbled with the knife that slept soundly in his pocket. His voice was prime with malicious intent and his eyes wide with blood lust. He rounded a corner, waving the light in front of him like a beacon as he bellowed down the drains. “Hello?!” A young voice screamed out, distressed and terrified in the darkness. Patrick jumped and spun around, that had sounded like brother of that stuttering kid, the one that had made fun of Henry Bowers in the cafeteria, making the whole room applaud him. In the back of his frenzied mind, he distinctly remembers someone telling him that this kid was missing alongside Richie Tozier, but Patrick ignored it, licking his lips again as he changed direction, heading towards the voice. “Hey kid?!” He called out and this time he was greeted by Richie Tozier’s voice bellowing back at him. “Georgie be quite this guy is dangerous” He hissed, and Patrick smirked, they had every right to fear him. “Come on out Georgie, Richie’s lying to you, I’ll keep you safe!” Patrick beckoned and turned another corner. 

He saw the two of them before they saw him, their backs were turned towards concrete walls of the sewer in front of them. They were at a dead end and the only exit was through Patrick himself. The teen laughed, unable to keep in the glee of finding two helpless kids. “He found us Richie!” The smaller boy - Georgie - Patrick’s mind supplied, hissed and Richie let out a faint whimper of fear. Patrick chuckled and reached out a long arm to grasp the smaller child’s shoulder, whipping him around. After he’d done so, Patrick would count this as the only time in his life he had come to regret something. The boy’s face was rotten and wrinkled from the grey water that lapped at their ankles. His eyes were a milky white, matching the gleaming pearls that smiled back at him from the child’s mouth, which now hung open in a haunting smile. Long, squirming black leaches clung to the boy’s skin, dangling there like icicles. Richie Tozier was in a similar state, his famous glasses cracked and covered in maroon blotches of what looked like blood. The two boys started laughing as Patrick screamed, throwing himself backwards to run away but found he had changed positions with the two children and was now facing the dead end. Now he was trapped like a mouse and at the mercy of these two zombie boys. 

Patrick’s shaking hands plucked the pocket knife out of its cavern and whipped around, prepared to slice through the decaying skin of the creatures before him so he could escape to freedom. His thoughts of escape plummeted as he turned and faced the two children, whose gazes were no longer on him, but on the pale, billowing figure that stood, clasping their shoulders in an almost friendly gesture. A clown beamed at him, it’s eye’s brimming with the same blood lust that Patrick had felt mere minutes ago except this time, there was drooling to accompany this ravishing hunger. Patrick’s heart climbed to his throat and his shaking fingers could no longer find their grasp on the stainless steel of the pocket knife. He watched helplessly as it plummeted from his fingertips and splashed into the water below him, never to be seem again. “Hello Patrick? Come to float?” The clown asked, tilting its head, the ever-present smile tilting with him. Richie and Georgie’s smiles widened as the mimicked the clown’s gestures and Patrick screamed, turning around to claw desperately at the walls, hoping to find some sort of escape, some way out of this nightmare. A curling hand on his shoulder signified that escape was to late and he turned slowly to meet the eyes of the killer one last time. Its eyes were crisscrossed, more like cat eyes now than anything resembling a human, its teeth had grown in multitude as its face split to accompany them and Patrick found himself too horrified to shriek out in response. The last thing he’d ever feel was the piercing pinch of the clown’s lines of teeth into his sweat covered skin and the ripping tear of flesh leaving his body.


	24. Chapter 24

Richie woke up unperturbed this time, an odd occurrence especially considering that he woke of his own accord. Georgie rose shortly after, also unprompted, another strange event that caused the two boys to share questioning looks. They know by now the strange ways Pennywise, their captor, would try and rise them from their slumbers, thirsty for the fear it thrived on, but this was an odd way of doing so. Usually it was faint, tickling whispers in your ear or booming, distraught screams of your loved ones or sometimes it was just a plain old nightmare. This time, It wanted them to see something, wanted to show them something, this time things would be completely different. Georgie stretched and went to stand but Richie tugged him down, eliciting a whine from the younger boy. “Sorry Georgie, something doesn’t feel right.” Richie murmured, eye’s dancing in the darkness as he searched for those ever present glowing orbs that always hung in the air around them. They were nowhere to be found, the room instead was filled with a horrible squelching sound, a sound that was comparable to the noise a boot gets when you walk through dark mud. Georgie winced at a particularly moist ridden slap and shivered, his mind already filling in the gaps. The creature was feasting.

“Georgie, cover your ears” Richie demanded, his face pale as a sheet. This monster was feeding on something and he prayed to all that was holy that it wasn’t one of his friends. Georgie raised two small shaking hands and clapped them gently over his ears. His entire body rattled as he thought of what this could mean, what if the creature wasn’t full after this piece of meat, what if it wanted to eat them next? What if the creature wanted them to join in on the feast? What if that creature was eating Bill? Georgie let out a small wail and Richie covered his mouth, motioning him to be quiet. Silent tears rolled down the younger boy’s cheeks and Richie sighed sadly, rubbing them away. “I won’t let it get you, I promise.” He whispered and gently brushed the hair out of Georgie’s face. “What if It got Billy?” Georgie whispered, his lip quivering, tears racing down his face. “I’ll go check, you stay here. Do not follow me okay? Put your back up completely against the wall and face the darkness. Scream if it comes for you and I’ll come running okay?” Richie explained, forcing the boy to maintain eye contact with him. Georgie’s eyes widened in panic and he reached out, grasping at Richie’s filthy T-Shirt. “No, you can’t leave me!” Georgie pleaded, clinging to the older boy like a lifeline. “I know I’m sorry, but I have to make sure it’s not one our friends It’s munching on and I am most defiantly not bringing you to see this bloodbath.” Richie explained and gently pulled the small boys fists away from him. “I’ll only be a second” Richie stuck out his pinkie and held it out, a sign of a promise not to be broken. The smaller boy linked their pinkies, the gesture completed and then scuttled into the corner, watching with fearful eyes as Richie was enveloped by the darkness around them. 

Richie tiptoed through the puddles, their contents trivial to him at this point and followed the sound of feasting, a sickening, gulping sound that caused all the hairs on Richie’s neck to stand at attention. He slinked forward, his feet hitting the plush corners of the clown’s tower of antiquities, memorabilia from every child he’s ever hurt, every soul he caused to leave this earth prematurely. The smell was the first thing that hit him, after the sound that is. It was a putrid, damp odor, like the smell of gone off ham or fresh roadkill, and it swam through Richie’s senses causing his eyes to water as it attacked him. He pinched the bridge of his nose and powered through, blinking back tears that threatened to spill. His shoes slapped into the deeper puddles of grey water and he knew he was getting closer, closer to the belly of the beast, closer to the demon that was hounding him. He could hear the creature’s slobbering breaths and the sound of teeth knocking against bone as he rounded the corner of the clown’s tower of possessions and was greeted by the most disgusting sight that was ever laid in front of his eyes. 

The creature was hunched over the corpse of It’s latest victim, munching in to the center of it’s prey’s open chest cavity greedily, spots of blood covered it’s features and Richie could just barely make out the tearing, razor sharp teeth as the squelched into his meal. Richie held back a scream as he watched, unable to look away at the horrifically mesmerizing display. The creature feasted with such proficiency and hit it’s target each time pulling away a particularly succulent piece of meat as fast as Richie could blink. It worked diligently, and swallowed without chewing and had Richie not been so terrified he would’ve compared the creatures to a ravenous lion. The monster had no finesse however as it’s arms and legs stood proudly either side of it’s prey and its head shook from side to side whenever a piece of flesh refused to let go. Richie’s eyes managed to tear away from the gorging creature and trailed them up to study the victim’s features. The fact that this person was familiar was too much for Richie to bear, whoever this was, Richie had known them at one point in his life. He wouldn’t have to keep guessing who it was for much longer, because just as he began to question the persons identity, his eyes met the milky, dead gaze of Patrick Hockstetter. This time Richie really did scream, as he raised his hands to cover his mouth almost immediately. The clown instantly stopped and turned to face him, causing Richie to shriek again. It’s face was covered in blood and it’s canines had pieces of sticky flesh clinging to it grotesquely. Richie fought the urge to vomit as he finally got a look at Patrick’s insides, swallowing down bile as his mind made a comparison between Patrick’s body and the carved insides of a pumpkin. 

“Enjoying the show?!” The clown beamed at him and Richie shuddered. “N-no, never. Holy shit, what the fuck!” Richie yelled, his mind blazing with panic and shock, and he ran a hand up to grasp at his matted hair, blinking back tears of hatred as he pulled at his roots. Sure, Patrick hadn’t been the nicest of guys, hell, Richie was terrified of him, but no one deserved to die. Richie was in the mist of a complete mental breakdown and had only blinked for a second but that was all the clown needed to fly forward and stand directly in front of him, It’s eye’s staring into Richie’s fearful ones. IT reached for Richie’s hair with a blood-soaked hand and Richie tore his digits away from his scalp, frozen to the spot in fear. The clown brought a hand down on Richie’s hair and the boy flinched in response, tears trickling down his face. The creature patted the hair gently, tutting mockingly at him before finally tugged it with such brute strength that Richie was sure It had pulled hair right from his skull. “Didn’t your mother ever tell you not to pull at your hair?!” It taunted in a disgustingly sweet tone, and started tugging his hair causing Richie to yell out in pain, clawing desperately at the clown’s blood-soaked hands. The monster held him like for a few moments before dropping him to the floor, staring down at him with hungry eyes. Richie didn’t have to wait to be told to flee and he hopped up running back towards Georgie, ignoring the Clown’s cackles echoing around him. 

“Richie! Did it get you what’s wrong?! Was it Billy?!” Georgie cried, panicked by the sight of a shaking Richie with blood soaked hair. “It’s not Bill, it’s not any of our gang” He said shakily, relief finally coursing through his veins and Georgie broke down in delighted tears. Richie sat beside him and slung a comforting arm around the younger child’s shoulder, wishing the boy had never been involved in the first place, he was too young to be exposed to such trauma, they both were. That night he fell asleep, clutching Georgie close to his chest and fighting the urge to vomit every time he heard the creature return to feast on it’s leftovers. He didn’t know how much longer it would take before the clown turned on them instead.


	25. Chapter 25

The loser’s gathered at Neibolt Street, some with hopeful expressions, others more solemn. Bill looked especially ruffled, faint tear tracks still shining on his cheeks, as if he had been crying all night. They shared a look as the stood in the garden of 29th Neibolt Street and winced as the house croaked in greeting. “This is it” Mike gulped, fingers fiddling with the trigger of his bolt gun, his palms already sweaty with anticipation. They stood there, the house captivating them in some unmoving trance as they all watched the tall, dry grass bristle noiselessly around them and the faint squeaking cry of the tire from a forgotten tricycle that lay, rusted from maltreatment beside the front porch. Eddie took the first triumphant step forward, marching up the steps of the Neibolt house before turning to look at his friends. “Let’s do this.” He said bravely, and the others nodded. They pushed their way through the large, squeaky rotting front door and traipsed into the deliberated house.

Immediately they felt eyes on them, watching them excitedly from the darkness like It were waiting for a film to start. They shuddered as the walked trough the cobweb ridden hallways and jumped at the slightest creaks in the floorboards, their eyes darting towards any change in scenery. No one said a word, no one even dared to breath as they tiptoed closer to the beast’s lair, knowing full well that they were headed to their almost certain death. Once they reached the well, they all froze, unsure of what to do next. They huddled around the mossy, cracked cobblestones and peered down into the pooling darkness below. “This p-p-p-place is It’s home, its where Richie and Juh-Juh-Juh-Georgie are and I’m g-g-g-guessing it’s where our f-f-fears are” Bill started, and the others eyed the well cautiously. “We’ll have each other though, we’ll get through this, together” Beverly stated, holding her hand in front of her. Bill and Eddie instantly followed, placing their hands on top of her, followed swiftly by Ben, Mike and finally Stan. “We’re the Loser’s club, whatever we do, we do together!” Ben smiled warmly and suddenly everyone felt better. One by one, they began to shimmy their way down the well.

The slimy walls of the grimy sewer made Eddie almost gag when he first touched them, and he had defiantly not felt faint as he plunged his feet into the river of grey water that surrounded them. All of them tried to ignore the contents of the liquid that lapped around their ankles as they trudged on, Bill and Eddie to the front with the largest flashlights, Stan and Ben to the back with the slightly smaller ones. They sloshed their way forward, calling out their friend’s names as they went, hoping that they’d hear one of them call back, wanting to leave this murky tunnel as soon as they possibly could. They turned various corners, ignored the rats that danced along their feet and powered through the creepy, laughing echoes and threatening mummers, yearning them to turn back and stay away. Mike whimpered as a nasty voice called out a “You’re gonna die boy” from the damp darkness that enveloped them, teasing them nastily from the safety oh its lair. It was all around them.

They had no idea how much time had passed since they first entered the sewer, time seemed non-existent down there, with no natural light or any sign of time passing whatsoever, it was hard to tell how long they’d been walking for. “Stan, what time is it?” Mike asked, turning to the other boy, who carried his watch on him religiously, no matter the circumstances, except Stan wasn’t there anymore, he’d disappeared. “Ben where’s Stan?!” Beverly cried, everyone stopping to look at the other boy who shook his head in disbelief. “He was right hear a second ago, I swear!! Oh god!” Ben rattled, hands flying up to run through his hair in a panic. “He can’t have gone far, come guys, turn around let’s look!” Eddie called out, and they all nodded, screaming out Stan’s name as thy ran down one of the many grimy sewer tunnels, the beams of their flashlights dancing around them. 

Stan hadn’t meant to go far, he didn’t mean to go missing, but this place was like a maze of spiraling passageways that seemed to go on for miles. He thought he heard Richie calling out from the darkness and he turned to face the source of the noise and then suddenly all his friends had disappeared. “Guys!! Where are you!” Stan called out, tears of fear begin to prickle at his eyes. He swiped them away furiously, no, he had to be brave. He continued running through the sewer pipes until he came to a small opening of running water. He glanced around, this place was unnervingly quiet, especially for the lair of a monster that lurking somewhere inside. Just as Stan was about to leave, he heard something move in the darkness and he froze, his breath hitched. “Richie?” He called out hopefully, praying that it was him and not the terrifying creature that had been haunting them. A giggled rattled around the area and Stan’s heart plummeted, that wasn’t Richie, that wasn’t Georgie. That giggle was from something far more sinister. The woman from his painting, that horrifying portrait that hung proudly in the back room of the synagogue, loomed over him, smiling horrifically at him. Her teeth were bared hungrily at him and her milky eyes were focused on the young boy in front of her. Stan did the only thing he could think to do, the only thing his frozen body would allow him to do. He screamed.

A throat ripping shriek echoed around them and the Loser’s froze, glued to the spot at the instantly recognizable voice. “Stan!” Bill yelled and they all dashed towards the source of the screaming. When it suddenly fell quiet, they all ran faster, the thought that they were too late bouncing around their minds. They ran into the opening and gasped. A grotesquely disfigured woman was sat, leaning over Stan’s face, large rows of teeth sinking into his skin as he struggled from underneath her. They screamed, and she looked up at them, lifting her teeth from his body to hiss warningly at them. Mike stepped forward, raising the bolt gun threateningly at her with shaking hands and she hissed again, slinking backwards into a nearby sewer pipe. Just as the losers went to charge forward, a figure appeared from the same pipe, that dreaded clown. The group shrieked again, as the creature grinned before sank back into the tunnels once more. Instantly they ran forward, dropping to their knees before a shaking Stan and gently lifting him up to lean against the wall. Suddenly he was gripping Bill and Beverly’s arms screaming from the top of his lungs as fat tears raced down his face, mixing with the long trails of blood that had begun to slowly crawl down his cheeks. “You left me!! I turned and you’d all gone, you left me alone! It could’ve killed, you left me!!You don’t care about me!” He screamed, the other cooing softly in response and hugging closer. Eddie gently whipped the blood and tears from Stan’s face as Mike gently toyed with his curly hair, Ben rubbing a comforting hand up and down his back as Bill and Beverly rubbed their thumbs up and down his hand. Right now, the most important thing to them was to calm Stan down and make sure he knew he was surrounded by people who loved him, people who would protect him and people who would never forget him.


	26. Chapter 26

Richie heard it before he woke up, the screaming of his and Georgie’s names that seemed to echo around them, taunting them. Richie sat up groggily, muttering a vindictive ‘Shut Up’ to whom he guessed was the mastermind behind all the cries. A loud crunching and growling told him otherwise however, the creature that usually made those teasing sounds wasn’t making them anymore, those sounds were real, and they were headed right for them. His friends had finally come for them. Richie’s breath hitched as tears of relief prickled his eyes. He briskly shook the other boy awake, ignoring the whining that came from him. “They’re here Georgie!! They’re here!! They’ve come to get us!” He explained in hushed, excited whispers and Georgie flew up, his face displaying his shock, his eyes as wide as saucers and his mouth hanging wide open, almost prompting the phrase ‘close your mouth you’ll catch flies!’ from the older boy. Instantly he started crying, large tears bubbling over his eyes and trickling down his face. “Come one Georgie! Let’s get out of here, forever!” Richie cried, not bothering to hide his own tears that were blotting his face as he stood up, tugging the younger boy up with him. The clown seemed to be forgotten as the two of them marched forward towards their long-awaited escape. 

Pennywise was defiantly still around however and watched them with furious eyes as they all but skipped to their freedom and away from Its clawed grip. It scowled at them from the darkness, it had waited far too long to do what it had threatened to do in the first place, what It had practically promised to do. Richie ignored the angry, gleaming eyes that peered out from the darkness, praying that it would somehow decide to let them pass but he knew that was pointless, this creature’s lust for blood and fear would never be quenched and Richie knew that It wanted them to be Its final course before it moved on. The clown leapt out in front of them, roaring and snarling like some ferocious beast and they screamed, clutching at each other in fear and hurriedly backing away from the monster that had kept them prisoner for the last two weeks. It marched towards them, for the first time angry at them, furious even, that they’d dare to think of leaving their cage. Richie gulped, he’d seen the clown disappointed, delighted and blood thirst but never angry, they’d finally incurred his wrath upon themselves and Richie didn’t think they’d survive it. Pennywise towered over them and scowled down at them, eyes dancing between the two as angry fire blazed behind It’s golden eyes. The look reminded Richie of his father, causing a shudder to rage through his body. “You’re staying here, unless you want everyone else to stay down here with you” It chuckled darkly, and Georgie wailed from behind Richie, burying his face in the older boys T-Shirt. This caused something in Richie to snap, some part of his brain had decided that enough was enough, he couldn’t take it anymore. “Fuck you!” He spat, and the clown shot him a disturbed and confused look. “Go blow your Dad you freak!” He cursed, uncaring if this demon even had a Dad in the first place, all he knew is that every time he insulted IT the creature would wince, almost like he was hurting it. Well, if It was wounded by foul language then It had defiantly met his match when It decided to piss of Richie ‘Trashmouth’ Tozier. 

“I’m sick to death of you and your fucking clown shit, fuck off and let us through you psychotic bastard!” He snarled, and the clown leered back, hand reaching up to grasp Richie’s throat, pulling him off the ground. “Richie stop!!” Georgie cried, trying to tug the older boy out of the clown’s grip to no avail. The clown sniffed at Richie, the older boy wincing at the disgusting gesture, before It violently snapped Its teeth at him angrily, almost like he was looking for something that he couldn’t find. “You should listen to him Richie, you should be shaking like he is! Aren’t you scared Richie?” The clown jeered, and Richie spat in It’s face. “I’m not scared of you, you sadistic fuck!” Richie growled and that was seemingly that was all it took for the clown. At first all It did was glare at him, the room being thrown into an unsettling silence that rattled both boys to their core, it said nothing, it did nothing, it just stared at him with those large, unblinking cats like eyes. Then It started cackling this horrible wheezing laugh, like an old person who was chocking out their last laugh before their inevitable demise and IT began shaking Richie violently, almost like It was trying to shake the life out of him. The older boy tried to pull away, clawing at the clown’s clenched hands in desperation as it hauled him up to meet Its eye. “You will be” Pennywise muttered and then It’s jaw unhinged, It’s eyes still on him. Richie could see rows upon rows of pulsating flesh and teeth covering the entirety of the tunnel that was this creatures mouth, all of them razor sharp, like the teeth of a piranha. The groves of the creature’s flesh convulsed at the rapid splitting of Its face as it cracked open to accommodate the millions of teeth that covered the creatures mouth. At the bottom of Its throat were a set of bright, spiraling lights, that whirled around so wonderfully and so rapidly that Richie found it impossible to look away. His eyes were drawn to the dancing lights and nothing could drag his attention away from them, not the ever-present screams from the Losers, who had by now heard Richie and Georgie’s screams and were rushing to their rescue, not even the terrified, pleading wails of young Georgie Denbrough as he begged Richie to fight back, but something in those lights had paralyzed him, something about those lights had made his whole body fall like he was dead. ‘Deadlights’ he heard a voice supply, the voice of the clown was speaking to him through his mind. Slowly he began to feel the fight slip from his body, he felt the names and the faces of his friends fade into oblivion until all that was left was nothing. Nothing but himself and the clown. Richie couldn’t even open his mouth to scream, he fell limp in the clown’s now relaxed grip, his eyes glossing over until he gently floated up into the air.


	27. Chapter 27

Georgie cried out, jumping uselessly up in the air in a vain attempt to grasp the hem of Richie’s jeans. The clown had long since faded off into the darkness with a gleeful giggle, much to Georgie’s terror and left the small child all alone, with no protection whatsoever. To say that Georgie was terrified was an understatement and as he fell miserably into the grey water around him he couldn’t help but hope for his brother to be here. “Juh-Juh-Georgie?” a voice whispered from behind him, Bill’s voice. Georgie sat up and turned to face them, it really was them, Richie had been right! Ben and Beverly were standing beside a bloodied Stan who was pointing a flashlight at him, shock and relief filling his eyes. Mike and Eddie stood in front of them, their eyes trained cautiously on the younger Denbrough, almost like they were afraid he’d bite their arm off or something like that. Bill however, was stood frozen to the spot, his flashlight having fallen into the depths of grey water, tears of relief flowing freely down his face. “Billy! It’s you! It’s really you!” Georgie screamed and charged forward, tears racing down his face. “Oh Georgie, oh th-th-thank god Georgie! I th-th-thought I lost you, oh fuck I thought I lost you!” Bill cried and wrapped the young boy in a fiercely protective hug, crying into his damp and mangy hair, not caring of the shit tangled in it. The two brothers sat there in the grey water, crying with relief and pure delight as the other Losers gathered around them, joining their little group hug. 

“Georgie, where’s Richie” Eddie all but whispered out and the others froze. Where was Richie? Shouldn’t he be with the younger boy. “Oh god no, please tell me his not...” Beverly chocked out, trembling hands covering her mouth to hide the shakiness of her breath. Georgie jumped up and dragged Bill with him, the other Losers following swiftly behind, and showed them Richie, his body was still floating nimbly in the air. The losers fell silent, all staring with abject horror at their once loudmouthed friend was now so silent, so deathly quite that they couldn’t even make out breathing. “Is he dead?” Mike asked shakily and, much to everyone’s relief, Georgie shook his head. “He’s floating” Georgie explained, his tone hollow, so much of the life that had once filled it seemed to have been drained away. Bill felt a rush of anger and resentment flush through his system, this clown had ripped a small piece of Georgie from himself and there was no doubt in his mind that it could never be replaced. Georgie’s childlike innocence was shattered. “Quick Mike, hoist me up” Stan asked, and Mike complied, hoisting the lanky boy up until his fingers clasped Richie’s wet T-Shirt. He pulled the boy down into the arms of the other losers, who held him in place, ensuring he didn’t fly off. He was so still and silent, his eyes were glazed over, almost white, and his expression void of any emotion. It was so unlike Richie that Eddie was almost sure that it wasn’t him in the first place. His glasses were practically caked in dirt and his face was of a similar caliber, Georgie too, was covered in sewer grime. Eddie would’ve winced, in the past he might’ve even refused to touch the other boy but this time it was different. This time he reached a gentle hand out and ghosted his fingers over the skin around Richie’s neck. It was bruised a dark purple. “It chocked him, it grabbed his neck and held him up high” Georgie explained, and the losers shared horror filled looks. “Did the c-c-c-clown do that to you too Juh-Juh-Georgie?” Bill asked, panicked at the thought of his brother being held in a choke hold by a terrifying monster. “No, Richie protected me. He never let anything bad happen to me” Georgie explained softly and reached out a hand to grab at the hem of Richie’s T-Shit comfortingly. 

“I have an idea, it’s stupid and crazy but it might work, considering our crazy circumstances” Beverly spoke, her voice quivering as she started at the floating boy in front of her. The Losers parted like the red sea as she approached their unresponsive friend, reaching out her dainty fingers to gently clasp his face. She placed a ghosting kiss on the boy’s cheek and then stood back expectantly, waiting for the chocking coughs of air. Nothing happened. “I’m sorry, I just thought…” Beverly sighed sadly, tears gathering in her vision as she looked around them, all hope leaving her system. The boy in front of her, her best friend, someone she was willing to even call her brother, was dead. “Actually” Eddie stepped forward, his entire body shaking with anticipation as he marched towards the boy. “I think it has to go something like this” Eddie smiled slightly, before crashing his lips against the other boys chapped ones. Everyone gasped, moving forward an inch as if they were about to pull the other boy off him when suddenly, Richie gasped to life. “Richie!” They screamed and charged towards him, helping Eddie carry the boy as he fell into his arms. Richie looked up at them, disorientated and then smiled lightly. “Either I’ve gone to heaven or it’s really you guys.” He chocked out, tears of relief rolling down his face. “It’s really us Richie, we’re here.” Beverly cooed, running a hand through the tangles of his hair. “Richie!” Georgie cried, and all put collapsed onto the older boy. “Oh, Georgie thank fuck, IT didn’t hurt you did it?!” He cried, running his eyes over the younger child, searching for any injures. “He’s f-f-fine, thanks to you” Bill said, thanking the other boy with his eyes, showing Richie how grateful he was. Richie nodded back in return, a ‘It was nothing’ gesture, and that was that. “Jesus Richie, I thought you were a goner!” Mike cried and hugged him closer as Richie just cried with joy. “Me too Mikey” Richie smirked, and his eyes darted over to Stan. “Holy shit what happened to you!?!” Richie yelled, eyebrows shooting up with concern. “Clown got to me” Stan chocked out, tears of relief at seeing the trash mouthed boy alive rolling down his face “Guess we have something in common”. Ben was in a similar predicament, he wore a wobbly smile as he watched to boy who had come back from the precipice of death choke out jokes, despite his circumstances.

Loud, almost sarcastic, clapping interrupted the cheerful moment and all their heads jerked in the direction of them. Pennywise stood a few feet away, snarling angrily at the sentimental scene in front of It and Richie and Georgie flinched at the sight of it. Bill stepped forward, standing in front of the little group protectively. “Go a-a-a-way, we’re not scared of you” He challenged and one by one the others stepped forward, forming a circle around Richie and Georgie till they were obstructed from the monster’s view. The clown simply giggled and bared its teeth at them, a gesture now too familiar with all of them. It was accepting their challenge. IT charged forward, racing at an alarming pace towards Bill and before Ben could even realize what he was doing he had raised a forgotten baseball bat that lay at his feet and clobbered the clown over the head with it, causing pieces of wood to splinter off into many different directions. “Welcome to the losers’ club asshole” Richie chimed from behind them and the Losers’ smirked, this was what everything had been building up to. This was the end.


	28. Chapter 28

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the lack of chapter yesterday, I was super busy and couldn't find time to squeeze an update in. We're coming to the end of the fic so I'd just like to thank everyone whose been keeping up with the fic and commenting and giving kudos, it really makes my day! Thanks so much everyone!!

Richie, jumped to his feet, dragging Georgie up with him. “Now or never little guy, you wanna kick this thing in the shines you go do it!” Richie chuckled, and Georgie nodded solemnly, raising his head like his brother did whenever he was challenging anything. Even now as Richie watched him Georgie looked so much like Bill, he stood tall like him, wore that same expression and clenched his jaw like him. He had all the early markings of a leader. “Are you sure you want to take part in this Richie? You were down here alone for a long time, you might have no strength left.” Beverly questioned, looking over her shoulder and simply nodded standing by her side. “This fucker deserves to know how I feel about all the shit he put Georgie an I through” He growled, and the others nodded. There was only two times they had ever seen Richie Tozier this angry. The first was when Henry Bowers first mocked Bill’s stutter, he’d been throwing punches and vile swears like gunfire at the group of bullies as he was all put dragged away by an embarrassed yet hugely grateful Bill. The second had been when Richie found out that Eddie wasn’t sick. Sure, he kept his composure up around Eddie but then he had flown to Stan’s house and punched a hole in the wall, earning dismayed cries from the other boy. Whenever Richie got into this state, things were always broken and now was the perfect time for him to do so.

Pennywise whizzed around, snapping his unhinged jaw at them angrily, eyes a blaze with fury. Yet, underneath it all they could see something else hiding in those golden eyes, the unmistakable flashes of fear. It was Mike who charged first, raising his bolt gun at it and firing without hesitation. The others flew down next, Ben pelting It with tiny, yet accurate, bullets. Stan and Beverly whacked the creature with large metal spikes and Bill threw bits of debris at the monster’s face. Richie and Georgie fired insults and kicked and punched the clown whenever they could, the power behind those throws was something neither boy thinks they could ever reproduced, the simple enticing thought of revenge had given them a power they thought was impossible to them. It spluttered and snarled at them, feeling itself growing weaker by the second, it needed nourishment, it needed fear. It’s features warped that horrifying women that Stan had seen in the sewers, but nobody even hesitated, Stan just stabbed the creature instead and was rewarded with a howl of pain. Again, those features twisted, this time its mouth splitting open to accommodate a bouquet of arms that clawed out of its mouth. Nobody batted an eye as Mike shot through them with the bolt gun, hearing another whine of pain.

The creature then spun to Ben, the wraps of a mummy encasing his arms and forcing him to drop his weapon. He simply blinked defiantly up at it as Beverly sliced his bindings off and watched as the clown turned to her mutating into a figure nobody had seen coming, they all came to a standstill. A man’s face was sprouted on the clown’s body, a twisted, menacing smile dancing on his lips. “Hey Bevvy” The man all but purred and Richie shuddered, he knew only one man that called her that. Beverly froze, she knew that voice anywhere, that was the voice that crept up her spine and made her whole body scream in anguish, the voice that made her feel sick and weak and oh so naïve, stupidly naïve. That was her father, still looking at her with those abusive eyes, eyes that had watched her for years, so long that Bev thought there was nothing going to come from them. Until one day something did come from them, something that would cause her to smoke a whole row of cigarettes in under an hour, something that she could only tell Richie in the dead of the night as he held her a promised her everything would turn out okay as tears rocketed down her cheeks. She screamed and stabbed the monster through the stomach. Pennywise morphed back to his original form for a moment before locking eyes with Richie. It smirked, and Richie gulped, this thing was coming after him next and they both knew he wouldn’t survive it. 

Pennywise changed again this time to his father and spat at the ground in front of him. “Always knew you were a worthless fag Richie” He growled and his friend’s gasped. This was Richie’s father, the man they had grown to despise. He raised a hand at the boy and instantly he regressed. “IM SORRY!” Richie screamed, holding his hands above his head as they monster laughed wildly at him. “Richie’s a coward! Richie’s a coward! Beep Beep Richie!!” It taunted, marching towards him and causing the boy to shiver in fear. He couldn’t move, he couldn’t even make out his friend’s begging him not to listen, he was terrified. Georgie screamed and charged ahead of the group and shocking everyone. “GEORGIE!” They yelled, and Bill went to run after him, but was stopped by Mike. “Hold on a second Big Bill” He murmured. Georgie ran forward and raised a foot and kicked the creature in the back of the knee. It was done with just the right force that the clown noticed, and it swung around, glaring at the younger boy. It snarled and morphed back to Pennywise and reached out towards the younger Denbrough. “I should’ve killed you in the beginning” It snarled, and Georgie whimpered. Bill fought against Mike’s grasp on his shoulder, failing to look up at what his friends were all staring at. Richie had risen from the floor, he’s face stoic and in his shaking hands was the splintered baseball bat. Pennywise’s grasped at Georgie’s hand and raised it towards his splitting mouth and then was disturbed by a powerful voice booming from behind. “Hey Asshole! What happens after three strikes?” Richie called, and the clown turned to facing, a confused expression in his bulged-out eyes. “Your out!!” Richie cried and then stabbed the creature through the throat. It screamed in pain, dropping the younger boy and scuttled towards and open sewer well, the losers hot on its tail. 

“Yeah that’s right!! Run you fucking Coward!” Richie screamed, and the others joined in, taunting the creature, watching gleefully as it’s skin began to fade away and reveal soft tissue from underneath. It was dying. It reached the edge of the sewer and the group of friends crowded around it. Bill stepped forward, always the leader, and raised a rusted pipe, ready to attack. The clown flinched, it’s breath’s laborious. “We’re not scared of you anymore” Bill spat, the stutter that usual covered his voice seemingly evaporation before their eyes. The clown hauled Its body over the precipice of the well and dangled aimlessly at them for a moment, it’s yellow eyes peeking out from the side, watching them with a calculated stare. Then, in a gravely and strained voice it uttered one word ‘Fear’ and then fell into the deep, dark depths of the cavern below and presumably to it’s death. The Losers’ stood there, shock in full display on their faces before they al broke down into relieved tears. It was over.


	29. Chapter 29

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry for the lack of updates recently, I've been super busy with college and stuff and I just hadn't had the time to update. Thanks to everyone whose still following the story were nearly at the end now!! I'll try and get the new chapter up as soon as I can!

One by one they all crawled out of the well, Georgie clung tightly to Bill’s shirt, holding him like he was afraid if he let go that he’d slip back into the darkness that seized him for so long. Richie was hauled up by Stan and Mike while Eddie fretted nearby, dancing around them with crackling nervous energy. Slowly, they walked out of the house and the two recently released hostages hissed at the drastic change of light. In the morning sun, the other members of the loser’s club were finally able to fully asses the other two’s condition. The sight was horrifying and upsetting enough that they all had to look away from it, hiding the tears that had begun to gather behind their eyes. The two of them were practically skin and bone, their clothes were sopping, bruises littered their bodies as well as a few scratches that decorated Richie’s arms. Their hair was drenched and matted, Georgie’s had lost its glow and now was almost black with grim. Richie’s glasses were smudged up and cracked, the right lens was practically hanging out of its frame. The two looked like they had just been dragged out of hell.

“Oh my god!” Ben cried as reached his hands towards them, tugging them into a light yet warm hug that both boys practically melted into. One by one the others began to join, reaching shaking arms around the two as the slowly sunk to the floor, relief flooding their systems. Georgie had started crying again and Richie had yet to say a word since the clown had died. Georgie was passed onto his brother, who hoisted him up into his arms. A sombre silence fell onto the group, the only noises coming from the distant clicking and clanging of the faraway trains, the beautiful song of the nesting blackbirds and the wailing cries of young Georgie Denbrough. Richie suddenly stepped forward, moving unconsciously down towards the Barrens. The others shared a worried look, Stan almost reaching out to stop him, to move him away from nature and bring him home, back to civilization but was stopped by Georgie grasping his hand. The boy looked down at the youngest Denbrough who gazed up brokenly at him, before he too began to tug both Stan and his brother towards where Richie was shuffling. No one said a word as the slowly wandered into the thicket away from the prying eyes of the old house on Neibolt street.

When they finally arrived at the vast field, they sat in a circle, the tall lush grass tickling their knees and ankles. A babbling river gurgled somewhere nearby and the faint honking of car horns on Derry’s main street could be heard dimly in the background. They were silent, waiting for Georgie and Richie to speak up, to say anything that would break the uncomfortable and chilling silence that was enclosed around them. “Is Patrick Hockstetter missing?” Richie asked, and Georgie huddled closer to him. They nodded hesitatingly, and Richie drew in a sharp breath. “Well, I know where he is…” Richie trailed off taking a deep breath before starting up again. “I know ‘cause I saw, I fucking saw… the blood… it was disgusting and oh god...” Richie gulped back bile and shook his head. “I can’t talk about it, I just can’t” He sighed, and the others nodded in understanding. “What happened down there?” Mike dared to ask, moving closer to the two in hopes of comforting them more. Georgie winced and burrowed himself into his brother’s side and Richie winced, reaching up to rub at the scratches that decorated his arm. “It was torture, he- It-, I can’t describe what we went through but just know that it was the living embodiment of hell on earth” Richie mumbled, his loud boisterous self seemingly vanishing before the loser’s eyes. No one really needed him to elaborate further. The visions that both media, literature and church itself had drilled into their heads was combined into a formidable image that had everyone shuddering at the thought, it was terrifying to think about. “I’m sorry we couldn’t find you sooner…” Beverly trailed off, looking at the two broken boys with tear filled eyes, reaching out to place her hands on each of their shoulders. They leaned into the touch.

“On a lighter note, we thought you might be hunger, so we brought you something to eat” Ben supplied, hastily opening his backpack to dole out sandwiches he’d made the day before. They were wrapped in some crinkled newspapers, the ‘News of the Day’ from two weeks ago was proudly displayed across it. “Go on! Take as many as you like!”. Without needing to be told twice, Richie and Georgie grabbed two sandwiches each, tearing off the newspapers with reckless abandon and gazing at the bread in awe. The two pieces of bread were well packed with beautiful slices of ham and cheese, bright crispy lettuce and big juicy tomatoes. The two boys’ mouths watered as they tucked in, wolfing down the two sandwiches in minutes. Once finished, they were each handed a bottle of water, which they again gulped down. After having something to eat and drink, the two looked significantly better and small smiles had managed to appear on their faces. Everyone’s faces lit up at the sight, finally seeing some life begin to return from behind their eyes and for once, the future seemed brighter. 

Suddenly Richie shot up, he looked around all of them with a mischievous glint in his eye, one that had been missing for so long. “Race you to the river!” He cheered, before charging off towards the water side. Everyone gazed at him in shock before Georgie, jumped up and started barrelling after him. Soon all of them were racing towards the river’s edge before eventually catching up with the two boys who were staring sullenly at their reflections in the water. The Losers looked at them for a minute, worried that they had called it all too soon and instead of taking a step forward, they were about to take a hundred back. Richie scrubbed slightly at the grim on his face, cringing as it began to flake away, revealing the pale skin beneath. “I really need a bath” he grumbled, picking at the dirt under his fingernails with a tense expression on his face. Then, without warning, the unthinkable happened. Georgie pushed him in. “Georgie!” Bill yelled, shocked at his brother’s random cruel act and was about to move out to pull Richie up when he finally surface. Richie beamed up at the younger Denbrough, most of the grim from his face had vanished revealing the clean skin underneath. “You little shit!” He yelled before swiftly reaching up to Georgie’s ankles and tugging him in. Once the two surfaced again, they laughed crazily, splashing each other delightfully and then turning to look at the losers. They poised to strike, aiming to cover them all in as much water as possible when Mike suddenly jumped in beside them. “Figured I’d save you the trouble” he smiled toothily at them and that set everyone off. Soon enough they were all in the water, splashing and cheering as the cold water washed away most of the dirt and grim from Georgie and Richie’s features leaving them looking like how they’d always looked. That morning the Barrens was filled with war cries and innocent laughter as the children played away the memories from the past few horrible weeks. Maybe everything wouldn’t be okay straight away but for now they had some semblance of normality back in their hectic lives, and if they had to get drenched in cold water, that was fine by them.


	30. Chapter 30

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! I'm so sorry for the lack updates these past month, I've just started college and it has been a bit crazy tying to find a full schedule. I still have a few more chapters to write before this fic is 100% complete so sorry if the wait is long, I'll post them as soon as I'm done with them! Anyways, I hope you enjoy the chapter and thanks for all the kudos, bookmarks and comments you've all been leaving me, it really makes my day!

It wasn’t like Bill hadn’t thought about Georgie’s safe return home, it’s just that he’d never fully planed for it. He had thought about the movies they’d watch when he came back, the toys that’d he’d buy him and how much he was going to spoil the younger boy and just cherish every moment he had with him. He did not however plan on finding a practically depressed and unresponsive Georgie, a Georgie who seemed to be dead behind the eyes. A Georgie who didn’t feel up to the task of riding Silver back to their home, even though he loved it before, a Georgie who didn’t want ice-cream, even though it was all he talked about. A Georgie who screamed every time they walked past a sewer grate on their way home. It was now that Bill realized that everything influences someone. At such a young age, he naively thought that this would be something Georgie would just walk off, something that he’d get over in a few weeks, but it wasn’t. It was only the maturity of their situation that allowed him to see the greater picture and make him realize something heart wrenching. That creature wasn’t the only thing that died down in that sewer grate, Georgie had too.

When the two brothers finally arrived at their home Bill stopped, frozen by a sudden thought. His brother was dead, the Georgie he knew, the one he loved, who always played baseball with him and Eddie, even if they only let him be pitcher. The one who always went out with Bill on stormy nights to race their paper boats down the streams of gurgling water that lapped hungrily on the concert. He’d never get that version of him back, all those euphoric moments they shared together crumbled to dust before him, vanishing with the breeze that gently wafted through the nearby oak trees. What would happen now, how could he move on from this? How could he live with himself knowing that it was his stupid actions that got his brother killed in the first place?

“Bill?” Georgie questioned, his voice as quiet as a mouse, almost vanishing with the wind as he spoke up. Bill nodded in acknowledgement but refused to look at him. His mind only supplying him with the brutal image of his brother’s corpse lying upside-down in that cruel, cold cistern the grey water around him practically swallowing his frail body into its murky depths. “Billy” Georgie tried again, this time accompany the call by tugging lightly on his pants. “Yeah?” Bill croaked out, when had it become so hard to breath? Where had all the air gone? Was he still there? Was It still there? Would It ever leave? What if HE was dead too? What if they all were?! What if-

His thoughts were punctured by a small fragile body throwing itself against his, staggering him as he scrambled to right himself. He looked down to find a pair of tear-filled eyes gazing back up at him, searching for anything that was physically hurting the older one. “What’s wrong Billy, why are you crying? What’s wrong?” Georgie cried, pleading with his brother to tell him what was troubling him. Bill reached gingerly to his own face and noticed, with shock, that tears tracks could be felt prominently on his cheeks, the tears continued falling, tricking over his shaking fingertips. When had he started crying? 

Bill quickly scrubbed his eyes, banishing the droplets from existence, but it was short lived. They returned in abundance, ignoring his plea for their ceasefire as they shoot down his face, racing one another to the finish line. A broken sob escaped his lips as he realised the his attempts at quelling his oncoming breakdown was futile, his body didn’t seem to care that he was supposed to be the older brother, his body didn’t seem to notice that he was the one rock that everyone in the group was clinging to and that if he broke down, then the whole world would fall with him.

Once he realized that it was unavoidable, he swiftly fell to his knees and gathered the younger boy into his arms, squeezing him tightly round the middle as he buried his head into his brother’s shoulder. “I-I’m s-s-s-s-sorry Juh-juh-Georgie. Oh God, I’m s-s-s-so s-s-so s-s-sorry” He wailed, chocking on every syllable, his tongue like a dead weight in his mouth, refusing to move to help get his point across, to apologize for all the wrong he’d committed, for murdering his brother because he was to naive to think the world was a safe and tame place. The world was filled with monsters, with demons who only wished to hurt him, to hollow out his insides and feast on any happy moment that wafted his way. 

“Billy why are you crying? You did nothing wrong! You saved me, YOU saved me” Georgie panicked, tears now covering his cheeks as he desperately tried to fix his brother. He squeezed him back equally as hard and nuzzled into the side of his brother’s damp hair. His tiny hands were clasping to the back of Bill’s shirt, attempting to keep them both grounded. “I love you Bill! You saved me, you saved me, you saved me” he repeated in an endless mantra, desperate for the point to get across, to comfort his brother anyway he could. Bill nodded his head, slowly but surely understanding Georgie’s words and trying desperately to pull the younger boy closer to him. 

“I love you too Georgie” He whispered into his ear, for once his tongue cooperating with him to deliver one untainted sentence, that didn’t contain any grief, any pointless stutter. All it contained was pure, unabashed sibling love. A love that anybody without a sibling would never understand. Georgie instantly relaxed further into his brother’s loving grip. The tension of the past few weeks draining from him as his brother raised a shaking hand up to gently stroke his hair, whispering ‘I love you’s and ‘It’ll be okay’s into his ears as words of comfort and a hidden promise between them that Bill would never let something like this happen to him ever again.

The two brothers sat there in the street, crying uncontrollably into each other, ignoring all other sounds around them, only rousing when the front door opened, and their mother let out a high-pitched scream.


End file.
